USUK Drabble Calendar: August 2014
by 365daysofUSUK
Summary: A drabble a day for more USUK! The file for the USUK Drabble Calendar, the month of August in the year of 2014.
1. 1st August

**ARTIST: demotif ****_(Art is available on the 365daysofusuk tumblr)_**

**AUTHOR: towerofart**

**August 1st, 2014 - Thieves at the Manor**

"Welcome to the Vargas Manor, Mr Rogers."

Alfred nodded to the butler and continued inside the decadent house. Directly inside was a long hall. Paintings of the powerful men and women of the family lined the walls. Alfred glanced at a few as he walked. _Too bad we can't come back later to grab one of those paintings. They'd be worth a fortune._

At the end of the hall and through a set of large doors was the main ballroom. The polite chatter of rich people before they've had enough wine filled the room with constant noise.

It took effort not to look for his accomplice. He should be here already, milling about in the crowd. Had he got in? They'd had some trouble getting his name on the roster. Maybe—

His thoughts were halted as a voice asked from his right, "And who might you be?"

"Oh, hello," he gracefully picked up one gloved hand of the lady standing next to him and kissing the knuckles, "My name is Steven Rogers. Who is the lovely lady that I have the privilege of talking to?"

The woman laughed at him before she answered. "Elizabeta. Elizabeta Hèderváry."

Throughout the party Alfred and Elizabeta talked. Occasionally they would drift off to other people, but she would always come back to chat.

As per usual at large rich people's parties, there was lots of wine and other alcohol. Though, if he ever were to take even a taste Arthur would have his head. They weren't supposed to be drunk on the job. Everyone else however, was showing clear signs of having sipped at quite a few of the drinks that the waiters were carrying around the room.

Soon it was edging up to time. Alfred had been able to loose Elizabeta a few minutes ago, and it was closing in on his cue. _12:20…12:21…12:22! Show time._

It wasn't difficult to slip out of the crowd unnoticed. He quietly exited to an empty hallway that had only been dimly lit. Not ten minutes later the door to the ballroom opened again, closing quietly. Someone walked up behind Alfred, glancing up at the statue that the American had taken to looking at.

"Very beautiful, but we can't snatch it."

Alfred smiled and turned to see the man behind him. Arthur Kirkland was dressed in a white shirt, black bowtie, and some very handsome tails. "I know, but that doesn't mean I can't admire the sculpture's skill, Mr _Ford Prefect._"

"Oh hush. It's a brilliant cover name."

"Dude? You could have gone with 'Bruce Wayne' and it would have been less obvious."

"Says the man who is using Steve Rodgers as a cover name."

"Aw, but that's different. I bet these people haven't even picked up a comic book."

Arthur rolled his eyes and kissed him, patting his cheek before starting to walk down the dark hallway. "Enough chit-chat; we don't have much time."

The two walked swiftly through the maze of corridors and rooms. A memorised map led them to their first destination: the maids' silverware closet.

It didn't take long for them to move on. They took a silver knife here, a spoon there, and made sure to make it all seem very random and hard to follow. The silverware was slipped in shoes or up sleeves within seconds and disappeared.

"Now the best stuff." Alfred adopted a stereotypical evil smirk and he held his hands together, wiggling the fingers.

"Stop it! Now is not the time to fool around." Arthur still smiled at his partner's antics before walking off toward their next target.

A couple more twists and turns later they were at the doors to the Mistress's Chambers. Until recently, no one had occupied the room in some time. However, recently a family friend of the Vargas family had moved in—thus the party that had covered their entrance—and there was now a lady of the house.

Alfred bent down and started picking the lock on one of the double doors. "You know, I met Hèderváry. She was rather nice…"

Arthur leaned against the other door into the room. "You need to stop getting attached to our targets'. It does you no good and makes you clumsy."

The two stayed silent until the click of the lock opening. Alfred smiled and noted, "New record," before he slipped inside.

They only had a few minutes before the guards would come around. The two thieves worked quickly and silently. Arthur went straight to the jewellery chest that sat on a vanity in one corner. Alfred focused on the furnishings of the room. A few candles, some golden nobs from the drawers, and a brush sitting on top of the large dresser were a couple among his pickings.

They exited the chambers as quickly as they had entered and started down the hallway again, heading toward the closest exit—a side door built for the maids' and butlers' use.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" called a gruff voice of one of the guards from behind them.

Apparently, they weren't as quick as they thought. The two knew they wouldn't be able to talk their way out of this one.

"Ready to run, love?" Arthur asked as they came to a servants' side door.

Alfred laughed, opening the door wide and ran outside. He called back to his partner running behind him, "Always."

And with that, they disappeared into the night, having lived to steal another day.


	2. 2nd August

**AUTHOR: justa-fangirl**

**August 2nd, 2014 - The Birth of the Waltz**

The Kirklands of England and the Edelsteins of Austria had been close for almost a hundred years, ever since a marriage between their families in 1711. The blood relation had dwindled by the time Arthur Kirkland and Roderich Edelstein were born, but the bond between the two families remained strong and, even as distant cousins, Arthur and Roderich were the best of friends.

They knew everything about each other – from their passions and ambitions to their shared secret of their preference for men. By the time they were sixteen, they were so close that it was only natural for Roderich to write straight to Arthur to tell him he'd become involved with one of the servants at his parents' estate. And he wasn't at all surprised when Arthur wrote back in his typical style: encouraging Roderich's sudden rebellious streak and asking for all the lusty details of the scandalous love affair.

(Come to think of it, it was a wonder they got along so well, considering that they'd never been very similar people.)

Arthur visited his Austrian family that very summer, and the Edelsteins held a grand party on his first Saturday in Austria. Naturally, Arthur wasn't there for long, for as soon as the party was underway and the drinks were flowing, the two young cousins wasted no time in slipping away to the servants' floor downstairs.

Arthur didn't know what he'd been expecting. He'd known Roderich his whole life, and even finding out his pretentious cousin was smitten with a servant was not such a surprise. He rather thought he was prepared for anything tonight. But when Roderich pushed open the door to a small, shabby parlour room and revealed a crowd of servants whirling around in circles to the steps of some erotic dance, Arthur would freely admit that he was stunned.

Almost _more_ surprising than the dance, however, was the man who suddenly called out Roderich's name and greeted them at the door.

He had unusually pale skin, white hair even though he was a teenager, and bright red eyes. He almost looked alarming, but the smile on his face was warm and infectious, and Arthur found himself at ease.

"You're here early tonight, Roderich! Just can't get enough of me, am I right!" the boy chattered happily.

Roderich scoffed, but let himself be drawn into the parlour without much fuss. "Gilbert, this is my cousin, Arthur. Arthur, this is Gilbert. He's originally from Prussia, but is living and working here at the moment."

Gilbert offered out a hand, and Arthur shook it distractedly, not knowing whether to stare more at the strange albino teen or the sordid dance going on around them.

He finally tore his eyes away from the whirling couples on the makeshift dance floor, only to find Gilbert grinning at him.

"Never seen a waltz before, I'm guessing?"

"A '_waltz_?'" Arthur questioned.

"This dance here!" Gilbert exclaimed proudly, gesturing to the weaving couples. "A _real_ dance, not the boring stuff you do upstairs. Want to give it a try? I've been teaching Roderich and he's getting pretty good."

"It's a little…indecent, isn't it?" Arthur asked.

He watched in amazement as the dancers twirled around him, pressed close together as if in embrace, and the girls holding their skirts high above their ankles. He'd never seen such a scandalous dance and he was surprised it was allowed in Austria at all, even among the servants.

"Sure, it's great!" Gilbert chattered away. "Here, let me find you a partner. Someone your type, of course." Arthur snapped his head up to ask just what Gilbert had meant by that, but the servant didn't give him a chance. "Hey! Alfred! Over here, I want you to meet someone!"

Arthur looked over to where Gilbert was waving, and all his complaints to the Prussian were wiped clear from his tongue.

The servant boy walking towards them was gorgeous, all tanned skin and muscle from working outside, and eyes that looked like they'd captured a piece of the sky to bring with them.

Alfred stopped before him, smiling brightly and expectantly, and Arthur realised that Gilbert and Roderich had been swept up into the flurry of dancers, leaving the two of them alone.

"It's a pleasure to meet you!" the servant boy said finally. "I'm Alfred. And you must be Arthur? We've heard all about you from Roderich."

"The pleasure's all mine," Arthur replied politely. "Ah…So, would you care to show me this dance then?"

Suddenly the indecent body contact of the waltz and the close hold between the partners didn't seem so vulgar after all, and Arthur was raring to get whisked away in the waltz.

With Alfred leading him, Arthur felt the passion expressed by the quick steps and whirling turns. The way they held each other was so intimate, almost a lover's embrace, and Arthur had never felt anything like it before. He knew it must look obscene but it was so exhilarating that he never wanted it to end.

"Alfred isn't a very Austrian name," Arthur remarked over the music, after a lull in their conversation.

"No, my parents were from Ireland, but I've lived all over. I was actually thinking about leaving here soon to try somewhere new."

Arthur studied Alfred's eyes, wondering if that was meant to be a hint. Sure enough, he spotted a blush warming Alfred's cheeks, and knew the servant was wondering if he'd been too bold.

"Isn't that lucky. It just so happens that my family's estate is in need of another pair of hands," Arthur lied. "I don't suppose you'd like to return to England with me at the end of the summer?"

Alfred's eyes almost seemed to burn as he looked back at Arthur.

"As long as we can practice the waltz some more when we get there?" he asked, daringly.

Arthur smiled, victorious.

He was very much counting on that.


	3. 3rd August

**ARTIST: stephyhime _(Art is available on the 365daysofusuk tumblr)_**

**AUTHOR: yao-braginski**

**August 3rd, 2014 - Predictable**

The lilac hangings smelt of late, summer nectar and beverages had been served with delectable, citrus biscuits. For the most part the meeting had gone quite smoothly. Well, as smoothly as was possible for the array of nations attending. This rare show of clockwork efficiency, however, had been obliterated come two o'clock.

When the personified nations had returned to the meeting room, a wide space decorated in burnt, autumnal colours, most of them sat down with post-lunch reluctance. Even Germany couldn't stop his fingers from tapping with slight impatience.

There were two countries, though, that hadn't even made it to their seats. The two nations were none other than England and America, both of whom were in the midst of a fierce and inane argument.

"When are you going to grow up?!" England exclaimed, the green of his eyes almost iridescent with his rage. America was trying to use the notable size difference to intimidate the smaller man, a tactic that was useless. England may be lacking in height compared to some but when he was this furious, tongue wicked sharp and presence nearly crackling, Arthur didn't need an altitude advantage.

"Really? _When am I going to grow up? _Is that really all you've got, Arthur? I've been hearing the same thing since the 18th century! I have grown up! I think the real question is, when are you going to get over yourself?!" Alfred's hands were in fists, his fingers crunched up into his palm.

None of the accusations being pitched back and forth had any real consequence behind them. The manner in which the two nations continued to look at each other throughout was ferocious, yes, but it wasn't baleful.

It had been a long time since England and America had looked at each other with anything near to animosity. And for a few decades now, their eyes told quite the opposite tale.

England's body seized underneath his starched uniform and, with the posture and elegance of a true, English solider, Arthur righted himself then promptly marched out of the room. Not before reminding America, exactly, where he could go and why he should go there, of course.

"Fine, whatever, bye," Alfred spat, shrugging his broad shoulders.

Amidst the table of still nations, France raised his hand, palm open like a spring flower. With a whispered _cinq, _Francis closed his thumb into his hand.

"I'm not chasing after you, Arthur, I swear to god! And I'm not going to apologise!" America yelled with enough conviction it was almost credible. His body was stony and steadfast but his expression faltered. _Quatre, trois… _"Arthur, I'm serious!"

"Deux." Another finger down.

America turned to France without really seeing him, as if only now realising there were other people present. With his lips lazily curved upwards, Francis downturned his pinky and said, with pleasant finality, "Un."

On cue, Alfred sprinted out of the room in search of his cantankerous beloved; the door rattling with the vigour of the nation's poorly managed strength. _"I'm sorry, Arthur, come back sweetheart!"_

"Spot on, Francis," Antonio announced, breaking the silence with his amused resignation.

"I told you they were getting more predictable. You owe me a drink."

"How about we bet on how long it takes before they're having make-up sex?" Spain suggested with a shark's grin.

"You're on, mon cher!" France happily consented, saddling up to Spain.

Not long after, Italy's wailing of, "I don't want to think about England doing _that, _ew! Germany!" and Germany swiftly lost all hope of ever having a productive meeting with the idiots he had to work with.


	4. 4th August

**ARTIST:** stephyhime **(Art is available on the ****_365daysofusuk_**** tumblr)**

**AUTHOR: **animeXalchemist**  
**

**August 4th, 2014 –Otome Arthur  
**

_A young man with messy blonde hair and striking emerald eyes looks up at you. "Oi! Watch where you're going you bloody idiot!" he says, voice full of annoyance but there's an adorable pout on his lips even so. You feel more amused than apologetic._

_- Apologise and help him up_

_**- Chuckle softly and tell him he's cute when he's angry** [select]_

_- Ignore him_

_A blush rises in the young man's cheeks. "I-Idiot! What the hell is wrong with you?!" The young man picks himself up and stalks off, ignoring your existence._

**_GAME OVER_**

"GAH!" Alfred yelled, practically pulling his hair out, "Kiku, this game is kicking my ass! Arthur hates me no matter what I do!"

"Alfred-san, calm down. I'm sure you'll do better next time."

"But this is the fifth time I've attempted this," he groaned, letting his head hit the desk.

"Well… you could always try asking him out in real life," Kiku suggested, shrinking back at the incredulous look his friend shot him.

"Kiku, bro, he's in the year _above_ me! And he's the Student Council President! And he's cool and sophisticated and—" he cut himself off, sighing. "If I can't get him to like me in a video game, my _speciality_, then how can I possibly get him to like me in real life? This simulator is like a trail-and-error, yanno?"

"I still think asking him out would be a lot less trouble than creating an entire video game about him," Kiku said bluntly, looking at the 'Game Over' screen. "How do we even know his reactions are accurate?"

"I asked his friends and people he hangs out with and, well, anyone I could think of. This is totally legit dude. I just need to get the True End on here, and then I'll know how to sweep him off his feet!" he said enthusiastically, restarting the game.

_The Brit looks out over the cliff with a dream-like look on his face. "Sometimes," he says quietly, "I think it would be nice to get away for a while. I just want to be myself and not have to live up to anyone's expectations." He gazes up at you, clearly a little embarrassed with this admission._

___- _"Then let's go, just the two of us. We'll go wherever you want"

___- _"You can always be yourself around me. You're wonderful"

_****__- _Push him off the cliff [select]

_"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! IIIIDDDDDIIIIOOOOOOOTTTTTTTTT!" Arthur falls to his death._

**_GAME OVER_**

"Shit my hand slipped, I meant to select number two!" Alfred yelled frantically. Kiku just shook his head, thinking that this couldn't possibly get any worse. "Seriously dude, why the hell was that even an option?! Who pushes someone off a cliff?!"

"You, apparently," Kiku said under his breath.

"I CLICKED THAT BY MISTAKE! I wanna date the guy, not murder him!" He scrambled to restart the game, horrified that he'd killed Arthur (even if it was just in a game and a total accident).

_The credits of the film lazily roll, Arthur leaning against your shoulder. "I had fun tonight," he murmurs gently, closing his eyes in bliss for a moment before leaning up and carefully bringing your lips together. You kiss back passionately, desire suddenly ignited, and Arthur moans softly. You eventually break the kiss to get some air, gazing at the beautiful Brit._

_****__- _"Arthur… you're amazing, but we should take this slow" [select]

___- _Boom-chicka-wow-wow

___- _Serenade him with Careless Whisper

_Arthur looks away, clearly annoyed. "So what you're saying is that you don't find me attractive? Lovely." He stands up abruptly and quickly exists your house, leaving you sat on the sofa forever alone and still a virgin. You loser._

**_GAME OVER_**

"Fuck. This. Game." Alfred growled, savagely hitting the 'off' button. "Arthur will never agree to go out with me, I get it. My life sucks!" Kiku just silently watched as his friend descended into stereotypical teenage angst. Hopefully he'd be over it in time for school tomorrow.

x~x~x~x~x

The next morning found Alfred at his locker, sighing the sigh of a man who was in love with an impossibility. He'd tried everything on that game, and each time Otome Arthur ended up hating him. Perhaps he should have programmed the game to be easier.

"Hey, Alfred Jones, right?" a voice said behind him, causing Alfred to jump and spin around looking guilty. His eyes widened when he saw none other than Arthur Kirkland stood there looking wonderful as always.

"Y-Yeah, that's me!" he said, even more excitable than he usually was. "D'ya need something?"

Arthur looked at him steadily for a moment before shrugging. "I heard you're good with computers, and mine seems to have died on me. Could you stop by the Student Council Office at some point today and take a look at it?"

Alfred stared for a moment. If this was Otome Arthur, then that was a secret code! There was nothing wrong with Arthur's computer at all; he just wanted to spend time with Alfred! The second he'd enter that office, Arthur would look up shyly and blush, thanking him for coming to have a look at the computer but admitting there was no problem at all. And then Alfred would have to make a move and they'd live happily ever after! He wouldn't mess up this time!

"S-Sure! I'd love to!" he said enthusiastically, grabbing both of Arthur's hands, "And I promise I won't push you off a cliff! Or take it slow! And even though you're cute when you're angry, I won't tell you that!"

"O… kay…" Arthur said unsurely, taking a big step back from the American and looking at him strangely. "Cheers? I'll… see you later then, Jones."

"Yeah!"

Looks like that True End was closer than Alfred originally thought~

(Or perhaps he should have spent less time working on an Otome Arthur game and more time working on his actual game).

**TRUE END(?)**


	5. 5th August

**AUTHOR: Anonymous**

**August 5th, 2014 - Part of Your World**

Alfred _loved_ Disneyland, but he liked some parts better than others.

The Mermaid Lagoon from Peter Pan didn't interest him much because it was usually filled with half-naked girls with seashell bras, and Alfred had realized he was gay by the time he was seven. So he walked briskly on his way to another exciting ride and had to do a double-take when he spotted a merman. The poor guy wasn't getting anywhere near the same fawning attention as the mermaids, but he was a real cutie, with a slim build and a bright green tail. Alfred changed his path without a second thought.

"Hey," Alfred said as he approached the edge of the water in the merman's secluded corner. "You're new."

The merman gave Alfred a frightened look and ducked into the water, leaving only his wide green eyes visible above the surface.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. Just wanted to say that I'm really glad Disney is branching out into mermen."

"Disney?" the merman asked in confusion as he lifted his head above water.

Alfred laughed; he was always amused when employees insisted on keeping in character. "Nevermind. It's just nice to see a guy here in the lagoon. I hope you stick around," he added with a wink.

"I was searching for others of my kind," the merman said softly, his breath making small ripples in the water.

"You must be happy to have found a full lagoon!" Alfred replied, playing along with the merman's backstory. It seemed as good a reason as any for the new addition, especially since he clearly had a foreign accent.

The merman swam a little closer to Alfred and he looked even more amazing now that Alfred could see the way the green in his eyes perfectly matched his green tail and both sparkled in the sunlight. It was such a stunning costume that Alfred could almost believe he was talking to an actual merman. The handsome young merman leaned closer to whisper a secret. "These aren't _real_ mermaids," he confessed.

Alfred laughed. "Nope!"

"You _knew_ that?" The merman gaped. "But if you know they aren't real then why does everyone gather to gawk?"

"Because Disneyland is all about making you believe in things that aren't real."

"You... you don't believe in merfolk?"

Alfred paused and frowned slightly. "Wait, I'm confused. Are we still pretending that Disney isn't real? Because if you're going out of character I want your name and I'm totally going to give you my number."

"My name is Arthur," the merman replied, "but how will your number help me?"

"Ooh, _burn_. You could have let me down a little easier, man!"

"I don't understand your strange phrases," Arthur admitted. "Please, if you're willing to help me, can you tell me if there are other merfolk here?"

Alfred rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well, there's the Little Mermaid. And Pirates of the Caribbean has some mermaids, but they're scary as shit."

"Are they real?"

"Dude, you need to work on your training. I mean, your costume is _fantastic_, but you're not gonna convince anyone you're a merman if you keep bringing up this Disney stuff."

"But I _am_ a merman," Arthur said in confusion.

Alfred grinned. "That's the spirit! Well, it's been fun, but I've only got an hour left for rides. And you probably wanna do mermaid stuff like brush your hair or something."

"My hair is fine! You're not swimming at all and you have that strange curl!"

"I call it Nantucket," Alfred replied as he touched his gravity-defying cowlick. "You should see what I call Florida," he added with another wink.

Arthur refused to take the bait. "I thought we were in Florida?"

"Oh no, it's the other way around. My Florida goes in you!" Alfred joked.

"Are there merfolk in Florida?"

"No, but it's got seamen."

"Then I don't think I'm interested."

"Dude, you're really good at keeping a straight face," Alfred admitted with a dry chuckle. He wondered if it was worth trying to give the guy his number again. "Would you be free afterhours to get dinner and a movie?"

"I'd like to leave," Arthur admitted, "but I can't walk. The fairies helped me get here and now I can't find any."

"Hey, I can help you! Some people call me a fairy."

"Really?" Arthur looked up at him with a beautiful smile and Alfred felt his heart go pitter-patter. He listened to the merman's instructions carefully and, when no one was watching, bent down to lift Arthur out of the water. The tail felt so solid and real in Alfred's arms that he paused in shock for a second.

"Stop, sir! You can't just run off with one of the mermaids!"

Alfred kept running, grinning madly in excitement. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this much childish glee at Disneyworld! Nothing beat the rush of helping rescue a _real_ merman from the tourist trap. Sure, Arthur was a little heavy, but Alfred had a head start on the guards, so he easily lost them and slipped through the employee exit.

In the end, Alfred ended up getting banned for life. But he didn't care. He didn't need a Magic Kingdom when his boyfriend was a merman.


	6. 6th August

**AUTHOR:** zeplerfer

**August 6th, 2014 – Bring Your Parent to School Day  
**

Arthur waited to hand out the flyers until the last class of the day, hoping to improve the odds that his young students would actually remember to deliver them to their parents. Even with a few reminders throughout the week, there likely would be some parents that wouldn't learn about Bring Your Parent to School Day until the night before, the same way they learned about urgent homework assignments on the eve of the deadline. Six year-olds just weren't the most reliable messengers.

"Be sure to give your parent or guardian these flyers," he explained carefully. "I need a few volunteers to sign up to talk about their jobs."

The children chattered happily amongst themselves, each vying for attention as they described what their parents did for a living. Arthur heard the usual assortment of jobs mentioned, until some particularly loud bragging caught his attention.

"My dad has the best job in the whole world," a girl named Emily said eagerly.

Arthur returned to his desk and tried not to look as curious about Emily's father as he felt. He had seen the young man before when he came to pick up his daughter from school. It was unusual to see a man pick up his child, especially one so young. He would need a flexible job to be able to arrive at school in the early afternoon.

"Is he an astronaut?" a child asked.

"Or a firefighter?" another chimed in.

"Nope." Emily grinned. "He's a stripper."

Arthur dropped the leftover flyers onto the floor and stared at the girl in shock. Before he could intervene, the other children began pelting Emily with questions.

She seemed pleased by all of the attention. "It's a really fun job! He plays around on poles and people give him money," she explained.

"Okay class, that's it for today," Arthur said loudly, distracting the children with the only thing more interesting than playing around on poles. He was already dreading the angry comments he was going to receive from their parents.

"But the bell hasn't rung yet," one child replied in confusion.

Fate smiled on Arthur and the bell chose that moment to ring. He breathed a sigh of relief as the children emptied out of his classroom. "Emily!" he called, catching the girl before she left. "Would you mind bringing your father here for just a moment?"

Arthur had a few minutes to think about what he was going to say, but his preparation fell by the wayside as soon as Emily's father walked into the room looking slightly confused, a little worried, and _devilishly_ handsome. Arthur gaped and completely forgot what he was going to say.

"Hi! I'm Alfred, Emily's father," the young man said with a firm handshake and a brilliant smile. If Arthur didn't know he was a stripper, he could have mistaken the man for a model or an actor. "Is everything all right?"

The ability to English escaped Arthur. "Uh... Bring Your Parent to School Day next week. Jobs. Talking about jobs." He shoved a flyer in Alfred's face.

"Okay..." The young man read it quickly and gave Arthur a confused look. "Thanks for the heads up, but I don't think I can volunteer."

"Come on, Daddy!" Emily pleaded. "Please?"

Alfred knelt down and smiled at his girl. "Sweetie, you know my job isn't very interesting. I'm a student just like you."

"But what about the pole dancing at night?"

"What?" The young man's eyes widened as his face turned red.

"That's what Grandma and Grandpa say when they think I'm sleeping."

Alfred glanced up at Arthur and his blush deepened. "She doesn't know what she's talking about. I work at Campus."

"So she's right," Arthur said without thinking. He covered his mouth a second later, realizing that he had given away too much. How many straight men would recognize that 'Campus' was the name of a gay male strip club? As an awkward silence filled the room, Arthur glanced down and tried to get to the point. It was easier to speak in complete sentences when he wasn't looking at Alfred. "She told the whole class."

"Oh my god," Alfred buried his face in his hands.

"You'll come talk to us, right Daddy?" Emily asked eagerly, bouncing on her feet.

"I'm sorry, honey. I don't think the other parents would appreciate that," Alfred replied gently. "I don't think Mr. Kirkland would appreciate it either."

She pouted. "Why not?"

"Because pole dancing is something for adults."

"Adults like Mr. Kirkland?"

"Yes," Alfred began, "I mean, no. I mean, only if he wants to. It's for consenting adults. Say... why don't we go get ice cream?"

"Yay, ice cream!" Emily cried as she raced toward the door.

"Can we pretend this never happened?" Alfred asked with a bashful smile.

"Of course," Arthur replied, even though he was certain that images of the handsome young man would fill his dreams.

"Great!" Alfred turned to follow his daughter, but he gave Arthur one final glance from the doorway. The young man pursed his lips and then grinned, like he had come to a sudden decision. "Although, if it _did_ happen, I perform on Fridays and Saturdays."


	7. 7th August

**AUTHOR:** sugarchains

**August 7th, 2014**

"Why under all that is holy are you awake this early?"

"….It's already ten."

"It's _SUMMER_. And it's _VACATION_."

"And that's an excuse to stay in bed all day?"

"It wasn't _all_ day. And yes, it really, truly is."

"Mhm. What are your plans for the day?"

"Coffee."

"And after that?"

"Possibly food."

"Brat."

"Yeah, but you love me."

Arthur turned to his newspaper, rolling his eyes at Alfred while sipping his tea. Reading silently, he was absorbed in his paper, the sounds of Alfred making coffee and breakfast fading into the background. After preparing his breakfast, Alfred sat at the table, knocking one knee into Arthur's purposely.

"Can I help you?"

"Oh, nothing. I just think I know what I would like to do today."

"Oh?"

"Yup."

"….And that would be?"

"I think. I'm gonna see if I can find that really really stupidly strong sunblock that you need, massage it into your skin, and we'll sunbathe. We can see how many freckles you get. Or how red you turn."

"Ass."

"Think about it. You know I have no neighbors. And the pool is right here. We can sunbathe _naked_."

"You just want to see me naked."

"That's the plan, yeah."

"….Will you barbeque?"

"Ok, that I won't do naked."

"But?"

"Yeah, I'll barbeque."

"…I'll think about it."

"I'll take that as a 'Yes, Alfred, you have amazing ideas.'"

"Don't push it."


	8. 8th August

**ARTIST: artmiss7****_ (Art is available on the 365daysofusuk tumblr)_**

**AUTHOR: yao-braginski**

**August 8th, 2014 - I Love You, You Big Dummy  
**

"Do you hear it?"

America turned around and looked, perplexed, towards a closed door.

"What? I hear nothing, sir," he replied, turning around again and facing the man who first spoke.

"It's really weird, I thought I heard a voice singing." The American nation again spared a glance in the direction his President pointed earlier, but nothing came out of the wooden door.

"I'm not sure, sir. Maybe it's just the weariness. This meeting was really tough and tiresome, so it's not surprising you could have heard strange noises." He cut off and laughed "Oh! I think I hear it, too, now!"

"Who's singing? The voice is pretty good. Why would someone sing in a conference room?" the President wondered, and leaned forward to better listen to the faint sound which came from a little room used for international meetings.

The sound was muffled, but the singer was clearly a male and a really talented one, too. Whoever was in there knew very well what he was doing because the guitar's chords were literally flawless, and the way he kept the tempo meant he wasn't a novice but an experienced artist or something similar.

"It may be a street artist who accidentally stumbled into the building and, whilst wondering around looking for the exit, got stuck in one of the rooms," America stated with a serious expression, which didn't match with his awestruck voice.

The President smiled at the childish way he explained a really unlikely theory, but said nothing.

Meanwhile the American country leaned against the door, mumbling weird hypotheses and peeking through the keyhole searching for the mysterious singer.

"America, I think it's pretty rude trying to spy on someone from a keyhole. This singer could be someone who just wants to be left alone and you're making it hard for them, I suppose."

The nation looked puzzled for a moment, but then grinned sheepish and rose slowly from his crouched position.

"Right. I didn't think about it. Well, then we should just leave," he replied calmly and walked down the hallway.

The music in the room ended and the American president sighed contentedly. It wasn't an everyday thing that America actually listened to him. Perhaps the nation was just tired as him and wanted to take a nap or eat, maybe both. Eventually he followed him and the music started again.

* * *

America heard the noise of the door as it opened and closed a second later.

"Hi, England!" he chirped as he was sprawled on the couch munching some chips. Noises from the television filled the quiet room of the hotel they had booked.

England moved towards the lounge and sighed at the poor condition of his boyfriend.

"America, I've been telling you not to eat on the couch. This is not your home."

The American whined several undetectable words and squirmed like a trapped bird in a cage until he was too exhausted to keep on.

Then he looked intently at England's black guitar case that he safely kept on his left shoulder, and asked "Did you play it today?"

The other man was dumbstruck for a moment, but then he warily replied, "Well, yes, I did. Why did you ask?"

"I heard you. While Mr. President and I were leaving the conference room, we heard music coming from the international room and I knew it was you. I wanted to burst in, but the President prevented me saying I would have disturbed the occupant." He chuckled and added, "He didn't know it was you."

The Englishman's cheeks went red as he stuttered some apologises. He was about to go and close himself in the bathroom for the rest of his (long-lasting) life, but he stopped suddenly as his companion spoke.

"Can you play it for me?" America lightly asked.

It took a while for England to take in the uncharacteristic demand of his boyfriend, and when he eventually did, he was astonished.

"What's with the strange request? You always barge into my room or whatever place I happen to be in just so you can noisily listen to me playing!" His tone didn't hide his suspicions. Why would America ask him now, when he never bothered in the first place?

"Can you play it?"

He was being rather impatient and it showed in his behaviour: he straightened his back and his cheeks puffed out a bit in a childish way. His cobalt blue eyes showed no mercy. America's gaze was piercing and his tone was definitive.

England sighed and slowly took out the guitar from the case. He tested and tuned it while sitting on the couch's arm as he said, grinning, "Jolly good. I'll play it, but you have to shut your mouth and listen carefully to the best music you will ever hear!"

He spared a last glance at America and after three firm taps started:

"_I was so tired of being upset_

_Always wanting something I never could get_

_Life's an illusion love is a dream_

_But I don't know what it is 'cause_

_Everybody's happy nowadays_

_Everybody's happy nowadays."_

He song with a silvery voice, with soft-spoken hints, while he drummed on the guitar strings and kept the tempo with his left foot.

The way his fingers brushed the strings of the guitar like feathers, the skilled left hand that fluently flowed on the fingerboard like a flash flood, and the mellifluous, slightly thick and low, sounds he made: America had never noticed these details.

"_Life's an illusion love is the dream_

_But I don't know what it is_

_Everyone's saying things to me_

_But I know it's okay okay_

_Everybody's happy nowadays_

_Everybody's happy nowadays_

_Everybody's happy nowadays_

_Everybody's happy nowadays."_

America had always listened to his vocal practices, he liked the way England looked so engrossed: his green eyes shone with a unknown firmness and he always let America play along with him or just let him watch.

He liked his smile the most, though.

"_Life's an illusion love is a dream_

_Life's an illusion love is the dream_

_Life's the illusion love is a dream_

_Life's the illusion love is the dream_

_Everybody's happy nowadays_

_Everybody's happy nowadays_

_Todays are good."_

England sparkled with happiness. America had never seen him so happy in his life. It was so pleasant to watch him play, although America didn't know why. He just loved to look at him so lively and frolicsome.

He glanced towards the Englishman as he was deeply concentrated on the song's rhythm, however by the time America shifted his eyes on him, England stared back with intense dark green eyes.

He flinched.

"_Bet you are tired of being upset_

_Always wanting something you never can get_

_Life's no illusion, love's not a dream_

_Now I know just what it is_

_Everybody's happy nowadays_

_Everybody's happy nowadays."_

With an extended sweeping motion and an allargando tempo, the music ended.

England shifted his position to better sit on the arm's sofa while putting down the guitar. He raised his face and a cocky grin crept over him.

"Well, how do you like it?" he asked, smugly.

After a silent minute a soft "Woah" escaped from the American. Then, noticing that his companion was chuckling, he added, "That was...awesome!"

"So, that's the only thing you're able to formulate after my mindblowing performance? I must have done a good job then." He grinned again, but this time in a gentle way.

"I loved it", said America.

England recoiled and stared at him with disbelief. "You sure are acting radically weird today: first you demand me to play and then show your appreciation... like that..."

America just smiled kindly. "I just really love you, that's it."

The English nation's face lit up as he leant down to approach the American squatting near him.

He pecked him and joyfully nuzzled his nose against the American's as the latter just chuckled noisily.

"Well, that's good then," he said. "Because I love you, too. You big dummy."


	9. 9th August

**AUTHOR: ****seecarrun**  


**August 9th, 2014 **

Arthur had never lived the most extraordinary life.

He had grown up in an average town, went to an average school, got average grades, and now worked an average position at an average job. And while he had average looks, the only thing not average about him was his less than average social life.

_That_, was positively horrendous and depressing and he didn't want to talk about it.

"You are just not trying hard enough, _mon ami_," Francis, Arthur's gorgeous and flashy best friend scoffed, sipping at his wine. "If you put yourself out there a bit more, the perspectives will come flocking."

"Easy for you to say," Arthur grumbled. Because it was. Francis never had a hard time finding himself a date for the evening, and couldn't possibly understand how difficult it could be for someone as plain as Arthur.

And sure enough, the moment Francis excused himself to refresh his drink, a handsome, blond haired, blue eyed blur crept its way through Arthur's peripheral vision, awkwardly making his way toward Francis at the bar.

Prepping himself for that obnoxious wave of unwanted jealousy to take over him once again, he loudly sipped his drink in a vain hope to drown out the incoming conversation.

"So, uh, hey," the young man was saying to Francis, not at all blocked out by the slurping. "I really hope you don't think this is too forward of me or anything…"

Here it comes…

"But, could you, like, introduce me to your friend over there?"

What.

Arthur caught himself spinning around in his chair to face the scene, not trusting his ears to be accurately capturing the conversation, but turned back just as fast, not wanting to be caught staring.

In his haste, he must have missed the rest of the conversation, because before he knew it, two pairs of footsteps were getting closer.

Francis, grinning from ear to ear in that stupid, knowing way of his, held out his hand toward the handsome, lightly flushing man by his side. "Arthur, this is Alfred. You caught his eye and he wishes to say _bonjour_."

Arthur gave this Alfred a once over, and found, to his surprise, he was even more good looking than he had first observed.

Too good looking.

"Francis," he hissed, grabbing the Frenchman by his jacket and pulling him closer to whisper harshly in his ear. "Is this some kind of bloody joke? Who is this guy?"

"_Mon cher_," Francis gasped, looking offended. "You wound me to think I would trick you in such a way."

Arthur raised an eyebrow and glared.

"Okay, so maybe it is not too off base," Francis admitted, "But I _promets_ I do not know this young man, and he is genuinely interested!"

Arthur, once again, looked over Alfred, who at this point was looking even more unsure of himself, and almost ready to be sick. His face softened.

"Hello Alfred," he finally said, turning to Alfred and catching him only slightly in surprise, "my name is Arthur. It's a pleasure to meet you." He held out his hand.

"Oh, uh, h-hey!" Alfred chirped, returning the handshake vigorously. "You're British! That's, that's really something. I-I mean! What brings you to the states?"

They carried on like that throughout the night, and to Arthur's surprise, it was one of the most pleasant evenings he had had in a long time.

It was only when he took out his phone to take down Alfred's number, that he realized Francis had apparently left them some time ago. In his stead, a simple text message sent from Francis's phone, almost three hours previous.

_"I told you so. ; ) Have a good night, mon cher!"_


	10. 10th August

**AUTHOR: rotifora**

**August 10th, 2014 - August 1750**

America let out a wide and noisy yawn as he trudged behind England hours before daybreak. If England heard he paid no heed. Today was the last day of England's ambitious project of securing more timber for his ship building, not that America was keeping count, and was very anxious to complete the quota. America on the other hand was depressed as soon England would depart in a few days. It was August and England did not want to be delayed by storms that frequently plague the Atlantic this time in the year and lose cargo that America and Canada have been steadily working all summer long.

This time he covered his mouth as he yawned and rubbed the last of his sleepiness away and caught up with England in one-two-three quick strides and jostled his sack to a comfortable position on his shoulder. The shadows cast by the oil lamp he and England carried played cruel jokes on America as his imagination has always run wild in the night. He hopes that there are no ghosts nearby. America decides to stop his sudden nervousness and breaks the silence of the woods.

"What is the amount you want done by morning, England?" America asked as they neared the designated clearing.

"I have marked the trees suitable to be chopped yesterday as I oversaw the men at their work so we shall start with these first and work in a circle along the clearing." England explained while pointing with his arm to his right. America simply surveys the trees marked with a nailed red cloth and with a resigned voice, "I guess Canada won't be joining us?"

"No, I have sent him to do other errands for me in town and won't have time sufficient to help you, though you and I are aware that you are more than enough." England said this with a knowing look and with a bare hint of pride which made America slightly thrust his chest out.

"Then you can count on me and get the job done!" And with that statement America lifted his ax and with a great swing and a loud echoing thunk began chopping the nearest marked tree.

America was already on his eighth tree when England reminded America to be discrete in his hacking away on the wood as to not draw out attention so America slowed to a steady rhythm.

On his twenty-ninth tree, America was barely making a sweat when England decided to join him in felling several particular large white pines that would be used for a mast on many warships of the Royal Navy. Sharp exhales and grunts were made between the two as they jointly shared the work. On the last white pine daybreak peaked over the horizon and with complimentary chops they worked their way to the center and then England gave the signal and America pushed the mighty pine down and down it went with a loud crack and crash. America felt exhilarated, for good reason because England hardly ever partook in menial labor with him. It reminded him of his early years with England and him a little colony trying to be of help to England in building a house or fence, or more likely fixing a torn wall that America had accidently went through. England now prefers to pour over legal documents and trade agreements and whatever else those meetings he sometimes went with official looking men in Boston or New York. America dared a look at England and saw that he too looked very pleased.

England noticed and gave one of his rarest smiles and America responded back with the widest one he could manage. It seemed that losing sleep had a definite benefit as America will look back on this morning and be reassured of his place in England's heart once he departs across the ocean and not knowing when he will return back.


	11. 11th August

August 11th, 2014 - Boyfriends

**AUTHOR:** empressvegah

**August 11th, 2014 - Boyfriends**

It was a bit odd, Arthur thought as he stole a glance up at Alfred's face looking straight ahead. They had been, as what others would call, _boyfriends_ for almost a week already – when Arthur accidentally blurted out that he might have fancied Alfred for quite some time already. Arthur had thought that he would be rejected; he was already prepared for a look of disgust or being made fun of.

Instead, Alfred took the confession well, if Arthur would say so. The American blinked once, and his face morphed into a sober expression, before he nodded and said, "Okay, Artie."

That was how they became… boyfriends.

Arthur was happy, no doubt about it. Alfred had acknowledged and accepted his love.

But…

It had been a week already, and Arthur hadn't felt any form of affection from Alfred. They were just the same as before – they argued a lot, fought over small things. Worst of all, Alfred never showed any romantic inclinations towards him – they never held hands, even when in private. Alfred was too serious lately – he didn't joke around or made fun of him. No kisses were shared between them. Arthur felt that Alfred was just forced to go along with Arthur's accidental confession.

Or maybe it was just fun past time for him.

The sudden possibility of it being a joke made Arthur's heart clench tightly against his chest. Surely Alfred wasn't that cruel, right?

He glanced back at Alfred, who was still focused on his walk, looking forward. He wished he could know what Alfred was thinking.

Arthur then felt something wet against his cheek, and the next thing he knew rain was pouring heavily on them.

Without thinking, he quickly shrugged off his coat and placed it over their heads, tiptoeing in the process (he would hate to admit it, but Alfred was really taller than him). Even if it was just a simple gesture as offering his coat to shield themselves from the rain (though a bit ineffective), Arthur knew nothing would stop him from showing Alfred how much he cared for him.

But Arthur's eyes widened in surprise when Alfred took off his treasured bomber jacket – one of his most prized possessions – and placed it over Arthur's coat, effectively covering them from the rain.

Alfred then smiled tenderly at him and said in a low voice, "I don't want you getting sick, darlin'."

Arthur was almost overwhelmed by the relief he felt swelling in his chest upon hearing Alfred's words. Alfred did care about him. He called him darling. _His darling_.

Feeling lighter than he'd ever been, Arthur hurried along with Alfred towards their hotel. It was just a few blocks away from the café they went to before.

Upon reaching the lobby, Alfred immediately pulled Arthur towards the elevator. Once inside, Alfred pressed some buttons that disabled other passengers to get inside the elevator until it reached their floor. Perplexed, Arthur looked at Alfred curiously.

"Artie, ah, sorry for the previous days. I think I haven't been a good boyfriend to you, right?" Alfred apologized, the admission making Arthur suddenly nervous. What would he say next? Would it be the end of their relationship?

"It's just… I didn't know how to react. To be honest, I thought I would be the first one who'd confess my undying love to you, but you beat me to it, heh," Alfred confessed, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. Arthur's breath hitched – Alfred _loved _him. "I wanted to do so many things with you but in the end, I let myself be stiff and cold towards you, darlin'." At this Arthur shivered, the endearment was so new to him; he wasn't used to hear it from Alfred's lips.

"But Artie, know that I love you. A whole lot. And I'm sorry for being a cold-hearted bastard during our first week as boyfriends. Can you let me make it up to you?" Alfred's remorsefully determined look made Arthur cling onto his neck and kiss damn fool for all his worth.

Pulling away, Arthur whispered breathlessly, "Stupid idiot, you have to make up for the lost days of intimacy. All I wanted was… to hold hands." Arthur's face then became bright red.

Alfred then grinned and wrapped his arms around the Englishman's waist, bringing him closer against him. "We can always do more than holding hands, darlin'," Alfred whispered back, his voice low and husky. Arthur couldn't wait until they reached their bedroom.


	12. 12th August

August 12th, 2014

**AUTHOR:** hoshiko2

**August 12th, 2014**

No one stopped in the middle of nowhere Idaho unless they were lost or their car had broken down. Alfred had been one who had broken down, but he just never found the desire to leave. Leaving the fast paced life of corporate America was just what he needed, and he settled in nicely into the small 500-something population town he now called home. He had taken a job as a waiter at the local diner to get to know the people in the town and make fast friends with the truckers that drove through the town on their way to their destinations.

However, there were some times that he desperately wished for _something_ exciting to happen. His mind would wander of alien invasions or crazy monster sightings or even a freak natural disaster (with no one getting hurt) where he could then come in and save the day. Of course, if aliens ever landed in his small town, he'd probably be too excited to poke around inside their spaceship than help out anyone in danger. He transferred all of his fanciful ideas to paper, drawing wondrous worlds, vividly detailing every landscape and every character.

Today, though, he was stuck. He always made himself the hero, one who never needed a sidekick, but who would be his love interest? Who would be his lady he'd always save from his most heinous villains? Of course, it wouldn't be a lady, but a lovely man. But out in the sticks of Idaho Alfred couldn't very well tell his story of his coming out and that being his true reason for leaving home at nineteen. So, he kept it to his dreams and smiled to himself whenever an attractive stranger would pass by the town.

The little bell above the doorway chimed prompting Alfred to hide his sketches and stand up straight. It was a newcomer, and a man. Alfred smiled politely, hiding his enthusiasm to have a new person to meet. The man glanced at Alfred, flashing bright green eyes that made Alfred gasp, and then sat down on the red leather bar stool at the counter.

"Welcome to the Lost Diner!" Alfred greeted cheerfully. "You must be lost to have found your way here!"

The man cracked a grin, but it looked forced as if he was appeasing Alfred. He took the laminated menu Alfred had handed to him. "Yes, hello. Do you have any tea or is it only coffee?"

"Um, we have iced tea," Alfred offered.

The man sighed. "I guess that will do. I'm parched."

"Are you from England or Australia?" The man shot a look at Alfred from under his thick eyebrows. Alfred blushed, somehow finding the man quite attractive when he got angry. "Um, I-I'm sorry, but I just don't know the difference. I didn't want to assume, you know? Sorry if that offends you that I ask."

"Well, I suppose it's nice of you to ask first," the man said offhandedly. He looked down at the menu and frowned. "I'm from England, by the way, and I'm on my way to San Francisco."

"San Fran?"

"I hear you shouldn't call it that," the man muttered under his breath.

"Are you from there?" Alfred asked with a grin. He leaned over the counter in hopes of making that man look up at him one more time.

"No, but I have family out there and…" The man closed his mouth suddenly. Then he said in a lower voice, "Why am I telling you this…?"

"Been in the car a long while?" Alfred asked. The man nodded slightly. "That'll do it. Ya have this _need_ to talk to someone, so you'll blurt your whole life's story to the first person ya see."

The man seemed to be struggling with his mouth, almost like he was chewing on the inside of his cheek. Alfred thought he could see a small smile on the corners of his lips, but he wasn't certain. The man's eyes also seemed like he couldn't focus on one thing as he would start to look up, and then right back down at his menu, boring his eyes into the dark blue words.

"Well, anyway, the name's Alfred. Call me if you'd like anything. I'll get you your iced tea." Alfred moved away to get the cup and ice. As he passed by the radio, he turned up the music a few clicks higher. The man, his only customer, looked over at him. Alfred grinned. "I like this song."

"Party in the USA?" The man sounded as if he were teasing. Alfred's face heat up. "What would you recommend?"

Alfred nearly skipped back over to the man, giddy like a school boy. "Um! I would piiiick, oh, the fries for sure, and the chocolate malt, unless you like strawberry, then get that, and totally got for the chicken patty. Best in the county."

"The county isn't that large."

"So! There ain't another town for at least 100 miles! It's all farm land."

"May I ask…?" the man started, stopping almost as if regretting opening his mouth. Then, "How do you…pass the time out here…? It must be dreadfully boring at times."

Alfred laughed, putting the man's glass down finally. The man took it happily. "Oh God, it _is_ boring. But, I just draw. I do a lot of comics. It's fun! Wanna see?"

The man nodded, abandoning his menu. He leaned over the counter as Alfred produced his sketches mainly on napkins and scraps of receipt papers. "They're not that great, but… I'm hoping one day to get into DC or Marvel! Do some REALLY cool superhero!"

"Does he have a girlfriend?" the man asked. Alfred looked at him, surprised, and the man pretended to ignore his stare. "The hero, I mean."

"Naw, mainly because…well, the hero is _me_ and I don't have a girlfriend… Or a partner of any kind."

The man lifted his head and smiled kindly. It was the first full shot Alfred had of this mysterious man. His smile was beautiful; something Alfred would draw on numerous napkins and papers long after he'd leave. Alfred wouldn't be able to forget such a face or a smile for days to come, and he knew it'd keep him plenty entertained and focused with that one face constantly in mind.

"My name's Arthur, by the way. It's nice to meet you."

"Y-you too!" Alfred shook the man's hand.

For the next few hours, Alfred shared his comic book hero story to Arthur who listened with a content and amused smile the entire time. When it was time for him to finally hit the road he left two napkins behind; one that was blank and the other that had a phone number and a note on it: _The blank napkin is for your imagination. This is for you to use whenever you're bored._


	13. 13th August

August 13th, 2014

**AUTHOR: **cantharidindeath

**August 13th, 2014**

Alfred F. Jones loves turning up early for his shift.

He doesn't get many opportunities. When Yao finally lets him take off his suit and tie and put aside his waiter pad and check presenter, he's generally five minutes _behind_ instead of the five minutes ahead he needs to be to get rid of that pungent stink of Chinese food, grab his flashlight, and shrug on his jacket as he races out the door. At this point he'll usually be stuck in evening traffic, beating an annoyed rhythm onto the dashboard of his hand-me-down Camry, praying for that God-given string of green lights—and even then, _then_, when everything goes his way, he'll generally get through the glass revolving doors of the Science and History Museum mere seconds before closing time.

Up until December 21st of last year, Alfred would have gone straight for the spinning chair at the front desk and propped his feet up onto the mahogany. He would have winked at the pretty Belgian receptionist, making small talk before everyone left and he had to force himself up to lock the doors. He would have spent the entirety of his ten hour shift playing whatever videogame his fellow waiter had given him. He would have dragged himself home when the manager came in at eight and slept from nine to five before getting back to _Shinatty Stir-Fry_, lamenting his life with two jobs and seriously considering quitting as a museum night guard.

On December 21st, Yao had taken a day off for some Chinese festival, enabling Alfred to get tired of the game Kiku had given him and push him out of the house onto the festive, wintery streets early to take a quick look at the museum he guarded. He'd wandered for an hour, aimlessly blinking through the 1700s and 1800s and yawning through a documentary on Darwin, when he chanced a glimpse toward British History and laid eyes on what at first appeared to be an angel. Emerald eyes, pale skin, graceful movements—he seemed flawless at first glance, bleak winter sunset glinting off his golden crown of hair.

On December 21st, Alfred F. Jones learned to love turning up early for his shift through the blessing that became Arthur Kirkland.

Bursting through the doors, Alfred raced past the front desk, waving briefly at Michelle before taking two rights past the planetarium and dinosaur exhibit. Rounding another few corners and sliding down the handrail of a flight of stairs, Alfred dashed around a Greek Ionic column—and abruptly raced back behind it, peering out warily over his wire-rimmed glasses.

Was it just him, or did Arthur look particularly dashing in his tour guide uniform?

Alfred watched, barely blinking or breathing, as Arthur trailed his hand along the glass in front of portraits of Queen Elizabeth. He turned to smile as a child asked a question, bending down to pat him on the head before answering.

Turning abruptly, the die-hard American buried his face in a hand and cursed, trying to fight down his blush through sheer will-power despite the image of a smiling Arthur seared into his brain. Peering through his fingers, his hand abruptly dropped as the time flashed up from his (flag-shaped) watch.

"_Shi_—CRAP!" Hissing through his teeth, Alfred raced past the exhibit toward the locker room, completely unaware of green eyes that followed him past the entrance.

When Alfred reached the front desk, he was very pleasantly surprised to find that Arthur hadn't signed out of his post yet. Trying to stop himself from glancing around wildly for a glimpse of that soft blonde hair, Alfred slowly turned his head before spying the Brit.

"Hey!" Thanking every deity in existence that he hadn't stuttered, Alfred cupped his hands around his mouth and called to the tour guide, who was staring contemplatively at a mannequin of Theodore Roosevelt. "Arthur—Mr. Kirkland—shouldn't you be checking out now?"

"I know that, idiot!" Whipping his head backward, the British man glared. Alfred tried not to let himself get overly starstruck, or fool himself into thinking he'd seen the trace of a blush grace Arthur's cheeks. "I just wanted to take a look at the statue—I'm not doing this for anything _specific_—I just—I'm going to check out now."

Alfred stared dumbly as Arthur drew closer, leaning across the desk and swiping his card into the scanner. He stiffened slightly, trying not to think of touching the soft skin or basking in the musty museum smell that seemed to radiate off him. Arthur leaned back, tucking his card into the pocket of his slacks, and paused.

"Y—You know," Arthur said slowly, stuttering. "This local high-school is going to have a nighttime trip to try out our new IMax Theater next Wednesday, and I have to be here, so I was wondering if I could maybe…um, take forty winks in the night guard cots?"

Alfred stared, brain functions dropping to zero as he stared at the now fully blushing tour guide. Arthur was now refusing to meet his gaze.

"You mean…sleep in the same room as me?" Alfred blinked, barely stopping himself from covering his face as blood rushed to it.

"D-Don't get the wrong idea, you insufferable git!" Arthur's gaze snapped up, and the sight of his green eyes sparkling on his flushed face nearly caused Alfred to lose it. "I just need somewhere to sleep and I'm not going to waste money on buying a new sleeping bag…"

"Um, no problem!" Alfred fumbled nervously with his flashlight, training his eyes on the tips of the unruly spikes in Arthur's hair. "I mean, there's two cots and I'm the only one on shift, so…"

"Th—Thanks!" Arthur nodded fiercely, at this point red as a tomato, and abruptly turned and bolted through the door, leaving it whirling in his wake.

Alfred stared at the doors for a single minute before pumping his fist into the air with a loud cheer.


	14. 14th August

August 14th, 2014

**AUTHOR: **hannaadi88

**August 14th, 2014**

The man had taste, Arthur begrudgingly admitted to himself. Cafés usually weren't his scene; he'd trade a warm cup of coffee for an equally warm beer anytime. Still, the place the incubus had selected for them was quaint enough to stay for a few minutes, he supposed. The café itself wasn't crowded but populated enough for a couple to exchange lewd remarks at their leisure without the danger of being overheard.

Not that they were a couple, of course. Far from it.

"I just don't get it," Alfred exclaimed, ignoring his ice coffee in favor of frowning incredulously at him. "Here you are, the embodiment of every teenage girl's wet dream, and you waste it all on men! Do you have any idea what you're missing out on?"

Arthur raised his brows at the man, unimpressed. "I was under the impression that you'd be grateful. After all, I could pose serious competition to your charms if I were so inclined." He took advantage of the temporary lull of conversation as Alfred took a long sip of his drink. "That aside, I would hardly say that I'm missing out on anything. On the contrary, I think you're the one wasting his talent. You wouldn't hear me saying something so rude to someone I'd just met, though."

That seemed to have triggered something in the other incubus. The frown melted off his face and what Arthur could only coin as a seductive grin formed on his lips. Attractiveness was a factor Arthur faced every day in his line of work and he liked to think that he was generally immune to it. It was because of who he was, however, that made him appreciate true beauty when he stumbled across it. He found Alfred's smile hard to resist.

The boy was getting ahead of himself, though, conveniently blotting out whatever he didn't want to hear. "That confident, are you? Pretty cheeky for an old timer. Put me and you in one room and, no matter how witty you'd be, I'd be the one everybody wished was in their bed. Men, too, if I wanted."

Ah. There went all of the charm, right out of the window. Arthur couldn't stand overconfident pricks. "Contrary to your misguided belief, there is more to attraction than good looks. You wouldn't know the first thing about how to seduce a man."

Alfred chuckled. "Should be easier than women. I know how guys think. All we want is to fuck. No need for fancy dinners or endless flirting."

"You are highly mistaken, then." Arthur scowled, pushing away from the table. "Wooing men is much harder than that, especially if you want a better quality fix from them. Insulting the complexity of their job, for example, tends to make them want to hurt you rather than bed you."

Ice coffee long forgotten, Alfred looked up at him, eyes shining with competitive vigor. "Is that a challenge?"

Arthur didn't bother giving the incubus an answer. He grabbed his coat and made his way towards the exit, forgoing his original plan to pay or at the very least to offer to leave the tip. Alfred had earned the privilege with that fat mouth of his.

…

That fat mouth proved to be talented in the end, after all. It had taken a long time, sure, but it seemed that Arthur had finally managed to train the lad properly. Lying with their limbs intertwined in bed, Alfred's aura preened with the smugness of a demon. Now that he had finally succeeded in making his point, Arthur had every intention of wiping that satisfied smile off of the other's face.

"Still think I couldn't get a man even if I tried?" Alfred broke the silence. His arm was draped lazily around Arthur's shoulder and his thumb was slowly tracing circles into Arthur's skin. Arthur, whose head was resting on the other's collarbone, bit back a smile.

"On the contrary, love. I think you're a natural."

Something in Arthur's tone made Alfred pause and his brow crinkle in confusion. "Wait, you do?"

"Well, of course." Arthur propped himself up on his forearm and turned to meet Alfred's blue eyes. "It takes a dedicated incubus to get another one in bed. In fact, I believe it took all of your charms and skill to make me give in after, what, your fifth attempt? You didn't stop to even get a fix in between. All of your talent wasted," Arthur drawled, a smirk slowly forming on his lips, "on a man."

It was his turn to chuckle when he recognized understanding dawning on Alfred's face. "Cheer up, boy. I've helped you expand your horizons, after all. Don't tell me you didn't enjoy it."

Alfred's face turned red. "I— Well, men aren't that bad. I mean…I wouldn't have wasted so much time on just any guy. It's only because—"

"I'm an incubus?" Arthur's smile widened in amusement. He leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Alfred's mouth. Alfred didn't respond at first, still stiff with confusion, but after a few moments he melted back against the headboard, his features softening.

"I guess you are pretty good after all, old timer. I won't be so easy next time."

"That is assuming there will be a next time, Alfred."

"Of course there'll be." Alfred reached out to Arthur's face, cradling his cheek in his palm. "You have to take responsibility for your actions. I'm completely and utterly hooked."

Arthur raised his own hand to keep the other's palm in place. "Are you planning on wooing me?"

"You better believe it!" Alfred grinned.

This time, Arthur didn't take the time to bite back his smirk. "Bring it on."


	15. 15th August

August 15th, 2014 - Pet Names

**ARTIST:** Stephyhime

**AUTHOR: **seductive-tonia

**August 15th, 2014 - Pet Names**

It started out as a mistake. America and England had been dating for a few months and it had just slipped from Alfred's lips, when England had called him in on a summer's day in 1997.

"Hey, sweetheart. What's up?" He had said, the words flowing so naturally from his lips, Arthur doubts he had even noticed what he had said.

"Sweetheart?" Arthur had asked, his stomach flipping, in reply, making Alfred nervous and his heart fluttering in his chest all of a sudden.

"Yeah…haha…" He had chuckled nervously, unsure how Arthur would react to that. "Sweetheart."

"Oh…" Arthur had bit his lip. "Well, then, poppet. I just called to ask you about that document you emailed me yesterday…"

He continued talking, but he could hear Alfred's smile through the phone. After that, pet names became the norm for them. Arthur called Alfred pet names all the time, mostly including things like poppet, babe, darling, sweetheart, sweetie, love, pet and dear.

Alfred, however, was the king (err, president?) of pet names. His pet names ranged from babe to baby and darling and darlin' and sweetie and sweetheart and dollface and buttercup, honey buns, sugar booger (which Arthur pretended he loathed, but actually loved), sweet pea, puddin', honey…the list went on.

Arthur loved these nicknames mostly during sex. When they'd make love and Alfred would talk to him, and call him all these pet names, it would make him melt.

And Alfred loved them, too. Whenever he made dinner for Arthur while he was at work, Arthur would smile and sit down and kiss Alfred sweetly and say "Thank you for the meal, love. It looks delicious." And he'd eat and Alfred would smile through the whole meal, because pet names were Arthur's way of showing Alfred that he loved him. That he did something right. That he was proud. That he was comforting him. Alfred loved that about him.

And they both loved when Alfred would wake up, and smile so lovingly at Arthur sleeping next to him, playing with his hair, stroking his cheek, letting him cuddle until he too would wake up.

And Alfred would say, "Good morning, sweetheart. Sleep okay?"

And Arthur would sigh happily, yawning a bit and reply with a smile, "I sleptperfect, darling. Good morning."

And they'd stay like that for a while, and kiss and tell jokes and giggle and laugh, until it was time to get up and they would and they'd give each other little kisses and touches and doting little looks throughout their entire morning routine, until they unfortunately had to say goodbye, and end their little moment of happiness with a sweet, deep kiss.

They adored pet names.

But they loved each other, more.


	16. 16th August

August 16th, 2014

**AUTHOR: **actualcanadian

**August 16th, 2014**

Alfred couldn't help but grin from the kitchen window of their small flat as the little girl hopped off the school bus, clutching a small bouquet of dandelions in her hand as she skipped up to the door to ring the doorbell. "Coming Mia!"

There was nothing better than greeting his little girl at the door, especially now that she was in kindergarten and taking the school bus on her own. "Alice! Mia's home!"

He grinned as he tossed the dishtowel aside, wiping his wet hands on his kitchen apron as he ran out the door and down the stairs, flinging open the door before gathering the little pigtailed blonde in his arms. "Look at this big girl," he chuckled as he carried her up the stairs on his shoulders. "Who are those flowers for?"

He had noticed the slightly conspiratorial smile on the girls face as she looked down at him and he tipped his head back to meet her eyes with a goofy grin on his lips. "You and mum," she said.

Him and Alice? Aww… These were those little parenting moments that made all of it so cute. "What's the occasion, sweet pea?"

She giggled, shaking her head before holding one chubby finger against her lips as if shushing him. "Put me down!" She instructed as Alfred laughed and lifted her off his shoulders to lightly set her on her feet. Small feet padded across the checkered kitchen floor and she grinned sneakily as she stepped into the living room. "Daddy, go get a tie!"

Alfred simply shrugged, kissed her forehead, and went to his room. Her master plan was almost ready!

"Mum!" She called loudly, causing Alice to wince slightly.

"Mia, sweetie, I'm in the office," she called with a sigh as she rubbed her temples. She loved the little girl and she loved Alfred too, more than anything else, but it was hard to balance work with a family.

"Come to the couch room! And wear a dress!"

…:..:…

Alfred leaned back in the worn leather couch, fixing up his blue striped tie just as his daughter had ordered. It wasn't like he had anything better to do, other than maybe wash the dishes. But Mia seemed so excited for this…

Said little girl padded into the living room, dragging her mother behind her. "Okay, mommy over here and daddy right there," she said excitedly as she pointed in front of her. "Right there."

Alfred rose, stumbling a bit as he got up clumsily, walking over in his sock feet to Mia, his long time girlfriend standing beside him in a light blue dress.

"All the kids at school have married dads and mums," she explained, her arms crossed over her chubby little body as she looked up at them almost in disappointment, giving her bouquet of dandelions to her mother. Why hadn't they done this before? Urg, dads and mums could be so weird sometimes. "So you have to get married too or it's weird."

Alfred's brows almost rose to his hairline as Alice blushed deeply. Sure, they had thought about marriage before but it wasn't very possible between nations without combining governments or territories. After 1776, he and Alice weren't willing to risk combining their personal lives with that of their countries. But their little girl wasn't going to take no for an answer, obviously.

"Yeah, mum and dad should probably do that," Alfred said without missing a beat. "So what does baby Mia have in mind to fix that?"

The little girl giggled, picking up a large book on the 20th century from the coffee table. "Gonna get you married," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing on the planet. "Of course.

Alfred tried hard not to laugh as Alice cracked a small smile, gently taking Alfred's hand in hers. "Alright kiddo, let's do this then," the man said as he ruffled the little girls hair. The girl huffed a bit at the ruffling, but cleared her throat dramatically.

"Now, are you in love with mum?" she asked Alfred, to which he chuckled and nodded.

"You betcha."

"Mum, you in love with dad too?" the girl asked with a completely straight face that almost caused Alfred to crack up. But, for the sake of the deep meaning and seriousness of this union, he tried hard not to.

"Yes sweetie," she said with a smile, giving Alfred's hand a light squeeze.

"Good," she said with a grin as she set the book down with a hard thud on the coffee table. "Wait here!"

Alfred watched curiously as the little girl ran and slid across the hardwood floor, slammed the door to her room behind her, and shouted. "YOU CAN KISS HER NOW!"

Unable to hold it in any longer, Alfred burst into uncontrollable laughter, wrapping his arms around Alice's waist as he pressed a warm kiss to her lips, a hand lightly tangled in her sunny blond hair. "Look at that, married," he murmured against her lips. "That's new."

"Shut up, git," she said, lightly teasing as she pulled him closer. "I love you."


	17. 17th August

August 17th, 2014

**AUTHOR: **justa-fangirl

**August 17th, 2014**

It was two hours into Arthur's hike when he slipped on a loose rock. His body wobbled precariously, teetering on the very edge of falling. Luckily, another hiker nearby reached out and grabbed onto Arthur's arm, steadying him before he could lose his balance entirely.

"Woah! You okay?"

"Fine, thank you. It's getting more difficult as we go up, isn't it."

Arthur righted himself and looked up at the other hiker, but it was too dark to make out a face – especially as the other man was covered in a neck-warmer and cowboy hat. It may have been a hot, humid summer night on the ground, but high up on Mount Fuji it felt like December, and all the hikers were dressed in thick layers. Arthur, himself, only had a nose and pair of eyes peeking out between his scarf and woolly hat.

"The problem is it's so damn dark!" The hiker's voice was American, but Arthur wasn't too surprised: Fuji was a popular destination for adventurous tourists from all over the world. "They should really say 'bring a headlamp' on the website or something!"

"Yes, I know a few people who've come to climb Fuji over the summer, but nobody even mentioned it," Arthur agreed. "It's ruddy dangerous, if you ask me."

"I know, right? And it's gonna take forever to get to the top when we can't see where we're going. I hope there's no sudden cliffs or anything…"

"No, it'll be fine," said Arthur confidently, to ease the other's doubt. "They wouldn't build the hiking path close to any dangerous areas."

"Yeah, you're right!" Arthur was pleased to hear the smile in the other's voice, glad he could be of help. "I'm Alfred, by the way."

"Arthur. Nice to meet you."

Without even noticing, Arthur and the American had set off on their hike again side by side, continuing their journey up to the top of Mount Fuji with a newfound travelling partner for company.

After half an hour or so, chatting all the way, they reached one of the trail's resting points. Every possible seat was occupied with slouching hikers, so Arthur and Alfred were forced into a dark corner by a fence to find space to sit down – meaning Arthur still didn't have any light by which to see the face of his new friend.

They'd already established that Arthur was in Japan to teach English for a year, and that Alfred was doing a year abroad in a Japanese university. So as they sat down for a much needed drink of water, the conversation turned to their recent discovery that their towns were practically right next door.

"This is so cool! I can't believe I bumped into someone who lives so close to me!" Alfred spoke up, downing almost a third of his giant bottle of water. "That means we can hang out! We could even go travelling together!"

Arthur blushed, digging his nose down into his scarf. "Don't just make plans on my behalf," Arthur grumbled.

"So…you don't wanna be friends?"

Arthur's eyes shot to Alfred in horror, cursing himself for being so cold and giving Alfred the wrong impression.

But Alfred's eyes, just visible above his neck-warmer, were crinkled in a smirk, and the hurt in his voice was clearly all an act. Arthur scowled and Alfred let out a burst of laughter before babbling on with plans for them to go to Tokyo together next weekend. It didn't need to be said out loud – they both knew they'd want to see each other again after tonight.

The two of them continued up the mountain throughout the night, stopping every now and then at the other way-stations along the trail. And all the while, they were never quite able to catch a glimpse of each other's faces. Most of the route was pitch black as the night wore on into the early hours before sunrise – and even when they did reach the rest stops, there was never space to sit near the lights and get a good look at each other.

Which was a shame, because the more time wore on, the more Arthur was sure he was falling in love. Alfred could certainly be a bit of a wanker when he wanted – he seemed to draw pleasure from teasing and getting a rise out of Arthur – but Arthur was quickly deciding that he didn't mind. Besides, Arthur could be a bastard when he wanted to, himself, so who was he to judge?

As they carried on up the mountain, Arthur learnt that despite being a wanker, Alfred was also funny, kind, modest, passionate, and intelligent. And Arthur _knew_, he could just tell, that there was a devastatingly handsome smile hidden under Alfred's red-white-and-blue neck-warmer. He could just _hear_ how beautiful it was, and he was dying to see.

At dawn, Arthur and Alfred were standing on the edge of a cliff at the summit of Mount Fuji, waiting.

Finally the sun rose. A streak of orange light spread across the horizon, the sky turned blue, clouds became silver, and the world lit up. A cheer rose from the summit as the hikers could finally see the mountain they had conquered and, looking down at the world below, realised just how high they had climbed.

Arthur, meanwhile, was preoccupied waiting for his chance to see Alfred's face. He glanced sideways at his companion, and found Alfred looking right back at him.

"Oh, uh…" Alfred stammered, eyes darting away quickly. "I was just curious what you looked like. All I've been able to see all night is a nose and a pair of eyes."

Arthur smiled (though to Alfred it was just a pair of eyes crinkling). He tugged off his hat and unwound his scarf, and Alfred pulled down his neck warmer and tilted up his cowboy hat.

"I knew it," Alfred grinned, while Arthur was left speechless. "You're perfect."


	18. 18th August

August 18th, 2014 - Movies on Netflix

**AUTHOR: **doitsu-the-shining-doitsu

**August 18th, 2014 - Movies on Netflix**

It has been two whole years, on this exact date, since Arthur's best friend, Alfred, had became his boyfriend. And it's been a year since Arthur went to the UK for school.

Arthur looked down at his phone when it lit up showing a message. Smiling Arthur nodded to it not caring the other didn't even know.

**TXT: FROM: CAPTAIN AMERICA  
TO: KING ARTHUR  
**_ready wen u r_

Arthur repliedsending out the text and rolled his eyes at the atrocious spelling and the nicknames. Recently Alfred had demanded they give each other dorky names for their cell ID for each other, and Arthur didn't mind at all when he was told he'd be King Arthur.

Pulling out his computer Arthur signed into skype and turned on his TV in the living room. He currently was on the couch, his cat at his feet and munchies surrounded him here and there. The plan for their anniversary was to skype, watch many cheesy movies on netflix until they passed out.

As soon as Arthur had signed into skype he got the video call from Alfred.

The screen loaded quickly and a huge smile went on Arthur's face when he saw Alfred's messy hair and tired face under a pile of blankets. He had just woken up, it was just about three in the morning over in Boston MA and it was just about eight am over in London, England. Alfred's face had brightened up just as much when he saw Arthur's face.

"So Arthur you on netflix yet?" Alfred had the window up on his computer.

"No love, not yet. Be patient. So what are we going to watch?" Arthur signed into the account. It was Alfred who paid for the netflix account, and he was the one who was on it a lot. Really the only time Arthur was on it, was for these kind of things or if he was bored.

Which was almost never with school work to do.

"I think we should look at the romantic comedies, like Clueless."

"Okay, and the netflix has loaded.." Arthur nodded and moved down onto the lists of movies but stopped suddenly when a title caught his eye.

"GBF?.." Arthur muttered and looked at the kind of list it fell under.  
Recently Watched.

A smile turned up from his face as he looked through the list of movies Alfred has been watching not noticing Alfred was speaking.

"So we could watch clueless, or Wedding Singer. Even Mr. and Mrs. Smith- Arthur?"

Arthur was holding in his fits of giggles behind his hands as his eyebrows rose, and the amusement in his eyes made Alfred curious.

"Arthur! What cha gigglin' at?"

"Oh, the recently watched movies in the list."

"Oh-oH."

"How was Rubber? I have to say.. that was an unexpected summary."

".. it was okay, it was fucking trippy. The damn tire turns into a tricycle in the end."

"Well, seems legit. And now about… Angels and Idiots? Or the Warmest Color Blue?" Arthur blink and went on as he read titles.

"They were both good."

"And Pageant? That seems actually awesome."

"Yeah, it was funny." Alfred smiled as Arthur continued to look.

"And- _ohmy god _Alfred."

"What!"

"Brokeback Mountain, you watched Brokeback Mountain!"

"It's not that bad, actually it was really good!"

"Gay cowboys!"

"Yeah! It's the shit!"

"… Alfred."

"What?"

"I love you."

"Love you too, Arthur."


	19. 19th August

August 19th, 2014 - On the Quest for Thor's Hammer

**AUTHOR:** theswedishpointofview

**August 19th, 2014 - On the Quest for Thor's Hammer**

"I can't do this, Arthur. I really can't! It's too cold. Humans weren't supposed to be here, we will never survive this. We will freeze to death right here, in this cave, and no one will ever find us. We will be trapped here, alone forever!"

The howling wind outside the cave almost drowned Alfred's ramblings, but he could still talk through his cold lips. In a breathless and numb voice, he continued to curse the cold temperature of the Arctic.

"Damn all the ancient weapons that just _have_ to be hidden away in arctic caves were no human will ever go." His teeth were clattering so much they resembled Spanish castanets, a steady click-click-clack-clack.

Trying to curl himself up more in the multiple layers of clothes and covers and the big, poofy sleeping-bag, Alfred noticed it had been a while since he'd gotten a response from his grumpy companion.

"Arthur? Are you even listening to me? Shouldn't you have bitten off my tongue by now?" Still without a response, a trickle of worry was starting to crawl up Alfred's spine, prompting him to crawl over to where Arthur was bundled up in a similar fashion to the American.

"Hey, Arthur, you hear me? Stop ignoring me, you ass! Say something."

Finally reaching the still Brit, Alfred freed his arms from the sleeping bag, turning Arthur around to face him. What he saw immediately caused him to start moving rapidly, opening his own sleeping-bag in quick movements.

"Arthur! Do you hear me? Can you try to open your eyes for me please? Give me a sign to let me know you hear me, okay?" Stripping his hands of the warm gloves he was wearing, Alfred reached beneath the layers of clothing surrounding Arthur's throat, searching for a pulse. Of course he wasn't dead, hypothermia didn't act that quick, but it was still important to check it. Arthur's pulse was still strong, so he was still only in the moderate states of hypothermia.

Covering the Brit up again, Alfred went over to their emergency-pack, picking up the hand-warmers before heading back for Arthur. His normally pink lips were turning bluer by the minute, making Alfred act quicker in his haste to warm him up. Bending down to open up the sleeping-bag encasing the other, Alfred noticed the faint flickering of Arthur's eyelids.

"Okay, Arthur, I'm gonna warm you up, alright? Don't worry, I'm here. Everything will be okay."

Having freed his companion from the sleeping-bag, Alfred undressed himself down to nothing, removing everything on his upper body before doing the same to Arthur. They hadn't brought anything for a situation like this, leaving Alfred with only one option: warming Arthur up with his own body-heat.

Alfred wrapped himself up in his jacket before crawling down next to Arthur. It would be a tight fit for the both of them, but at least they would be warm. Zipping their jackets together, followed by the sleeping bag, Alfred was almost done. Reaching out to get the hand-warmers, he cracked the chips inside them before putting them in Arthur's armpits. It wasn't romantic in the least, but in a life-and-death situation, certain things had to be done.

All the moving around and undressing must have woken Arthur up a bit, because his eyes were now open, watching Alfred's face only centimetres in front of him. The slow blinking of his eyelids told Alfred that the Brit was still sluggish from the hypothermia.

"There, now. This will warm you up in no time," Alfred said, grinning reassuringly, like nothing was wrong in this world. Except Arthur had almost passed out from the freezing temperature. Alfred didn't even want to imagine what could've happened if he hadn't acted in time.

Lying this close to each other it was impossible not to notice the small smile gracing Arthur's lips. It was a rare sight these days, and something Alfred had missed terribly. Accompanied by Arthur's doped-up look though, Alfred knew it wouldn't have appeared under normal circumstances.

A sigh passed Arthur's smiling lips. "I remember this. I thought you left me, Alfred. Why would you do that?" The slurred words felt like a knife stabbed to his heart. Alfred wrapped Arthur up tighter in his arms, knowing Arthur would regret this when he came to again.

"I didn't have a choice. Or- I did, but I felt like there were more important things to take care of." Nuzzling his nose close to Arthur's hair, he thought of all the other times he'd done the same, taking comfort in Arthur's smell.

"More important than us? I didn't even know if you were alive."

Alfred closed his eyes in shame, knowing he had absolutely nothing to say to defend his actions. At least not if he treasured his life. Matthew would kill him for sure if he told Arthur.

"One day, Arthur, when all of this is over, I will tell you why. I just need you to be patient and help me get through this, so I can get that hammer and set Matthew straight again. After that, I will tell you. I promise." Alfred hugged Arthur closer for a moment, feeling his heart flutter when Arthur nuzzled his nose into his throat.

"…I feel cold," came a quiet murmur, making Alfred sigh in fondness. Arthur was so cute when he wasn't his normal, sane self. Including drunk out of his mind.

"Good. That means you are starting to warm up again. Just go back to sleep for now, and you won't be so cold when you wake up tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Alfred."

"Goodnight." Alfred kissed Arthur's forehead just like he'd done before this mess all started, when life had been easy and sleeping like this with Arthur was normal.

"I love you, Arthur. I always will."


	20. 20th August

August 20th, 2014 - The Prat of Camelot

**AUTHOR: **Zeplerfer

**August 20th, 2014 - The Prat of Camelot**

Arthur's eyes widened as he passed through the gates of Camelot. He'd never seem so many people in one place before. He craned his neck to take in all the sights—in the market he could see farmers selling livestock as children pelted criminals in the stocks with rotten vegetables—but he continued walking towards the brightly colored tents at the center of town.

Each year, Camelot hosted a spring tournament, drawing knights from all across the land. Arthur was no knight, but he'd heard that skilled peasants could enter the competition and win prizes.

"It costs 12 shillings to register," the man behind the table informed Arthur. He glanced at Arthur's clothes disapprovingly, clearly believing that Arthur lacked the funds to enter. He was right, damn him, but the look still made Arthur glare and stomp away. It would take a servant a _month_ to earn that much money, so he had no way to raise the funds before the tournament began.

"Don't have the money to enter?" a voice asked smugly. Arthur turned to see a blond, well-dressed young man staring at him with a cocky expression. He looked like a lordling with too much time and money on his hands, too handsome for his own good, easily bored, and searching for a victim to harass. Arthur hated him instantly.

"I don't see how it's any of your business," Arthur crisply retorted.

"You have no idea who I am, do you?" the young man asked with a teasing grin.

"I know who you are," Arthur replied. He watched as satisfaction suffused the other man's face and then he picked the best moment to twist the metaphorical knife. "You're a prat."

The young man laughed. "Just thought I'd offer to help."

"Really? What do you propose?" Arthur asked. He had never been the lucky sort, but it certainly would be nice if a wealthy benefactor chose to aid him in his moment of need.

"You take three shots with your longbow from 100 yards. If you hit the bullseye, I'll pay your entry fee. If you lose, you work as my servant for a month. My last one just left. I could use a new one."

"Deal," Arthur immediately agreed. He was an excellent shot, so the money was as good as his. They shook hands.

"My name's Alfred, by the way."

Arthur absent-mindedly replied with his own name, as he assessed the archery targets placed on the field for practice. They had smaller bullseyes than the ones he had used for practice, but he was used to hitting further targets, so it wouldn't be a problem. Arthur set down his pack, strung his long bow, and selected an arrow.

"You don't waste time, do you?" Alfred asked, standing just behind Arthur as he watched him prepare. His grin grew more irritating by the second.

"Be quiet," Arthur demanded. He needed silence and focus for his best shot. Eyes glued to the target, Arthur pulled back the string and took a deep breath. Just as he prepared to loose the arrow, Alfred leapt up behind him and shouted. Arthur jerked and his arrow went wide of the mark. He spun around and scowled. "What are you doing?" he shouted.

"You never said I couldn't yell when you tried to aim," Alfred replied nonchalantly with his same _infuriating_ grin. "Don't you think it'd be noisy during battle?"

Arthur glared and prepared another arrow. This time, he was ready for Alfred's shout. He was not ready for the _push_ that almost knocked him to his knees. The second arrow didn't even hit the target. Arthur climbed to his feet and scowled as he stared down the aggravating young lord.

"Never said I couldn't push," Alfred replied. His grin reached diabolical levels.

Fuming, Arthur faced the target one last time. As he heard Alfred shift behind him, he spun and used his bow to knock the young lord off his feet. Arthur fired the arrow and scored a direct bullseye. With a triumphant look, he turned to face the young man. "I believe victory is mine," he coolly replied. He expected to see anger or disappointment on Alfred's face. He did not expect the look of amused chagrin.

"Don't resist," Alfred advised, still sitting on the ground from where he had fallen. "And don't worry, I'll come get you out as soon as I can."

"I won fair and square," Arthur protested. "You can't renege on our agreement just because you—" His angry rant ended abruptly as a guard knocked him to the ground. Still shocked, he didn't resist as another guard roughly tied his arms behind his back. They lifted him to his feet and marched him away from the archery grounds. Arthur protested, but could not make them see that this was all a terrible misunderstanding.

As they locked him into the stocks, the guards finally informed Arthur that hitting his royal highness Prince Alfred carried a month sentence in the stocks.

The jerk who had taunted him on the archery field and played fast and loose with his agreement was a member of the royal family. Arthur groaned. Suddenly his current predicament made a great deal more sense. "Shit," he muttered under his breath.

Although Alfred was an aggravating and dislikable human being, at least he kept his word. Unfortunately, he arrived at the stocks _after _a group of unruly children pelted Arthur with rotten tomatoes and wilted lettuce. As Alfred approached, the people stopped throwing fruit. Arthur was grateful for the brief respite.

"Good news! The guards agreed that you could serve your sentence as my servant instead of in the stocks," the prince declared cheerfully.

Arthur scowled. It was easy for Alfred to be happy—he was going to get what he wanted, even though he had lost the bet. "Can't you just pardon people?" he complained.

"If I did that, people would lose their respect for the law," Alfred replied smoothly. It sounded like he was quoting one of his tutors. "Still, I think you'll find it's a good deal. One month in the castle is definitely better than the stocks."

It was a close call. Alfred was a smug, annoying, insufferable git. But rotten fruit _hurt_ when it smacked him in the face. Arthur sighed as he spotted the children holding eggs with a nasty gleam in their eyes. "All right, _fine_," he agreed.

Alfred gestured for the guards to release Arthur from the stocks. Arthur rubbed his wrists and tried to clean off as much of the vegetable gunk as he could. As he followed the prince back to the castle, he wondered if he had made the right choice after all. Either way, it looked like he was stuck with a rotten egg.


	21. 21st August

August 21st, 2014

**AUTHOR: **blackroseauthoress

**August 21st, 2014**

"I swear, Arthur, if you don't at least _talk _to him today, I will be forced to do something _drastic__._"

Arthur _wasn't_ crazy. Everyone believed that he was: his parents, his doctors, counselors, and psychiatrists. But he _wasn't_. He had just been born unlucky.

He was trying to ignore the manifestation of that unluckiness right now, as he scowled down at the rental, probably horribly unhygienic roller-skate that he was attempting to lace onto his foot.

An annoyed sigh came from over his shoulder and then, "Let me do it. He'll have finished his shift by the time you get those on."

Arthur rolled his eyes, but lifted his hands from the laces and watched as they began to move—to anyone else it would have seemed to happen by themselves. They twisted around each other, tightening, and finally laced themselves up with an overly-flamboyant bow. He snorted, but didn't speak as he used a chair to pull himself to his feet.

He hated roller-skating, and yet he'd been coming to this rink every weekend for the past two months. His initial reason for coming here had been to simply get his parents off his back. They always told him that he should go out more, spend time with other (read: normal) people. He shouldn't lock himself up in his room with his books all day. His mother had even started leaving brochures for places to visit around town in strategic places around the house.

What had really pushed him to finally go out, though, was _Francis's _constant whining that he was bored, and just because he was dead didn't mean he wanted to spend all his time cooped up.

Arthur had finally agreed to go to the roller rink, which had just happened to be the brochure he was looking at when his parents' needling and Francis's whining finally grew to be too much. And he'd hated it, of course. Falling on his ass constantly, having to cling to the railing surrounding the rink while five-year-olds whizzed by… He'd just made a promise to himself to never come back when he laid eyes on _him_.

"Now, come on! Do not be such a coward!" Francis was pushing at his shoulders, trying to move him toward where he was standing.

"Quit it, Francis," he hissed under his breath, attempting to dig his feet into the carpet. Which would have been a million times easier if he weren't wearing roller skates, and if the person pushing him wasn't a supernatural entity who was unfortunately much stronger than a normal human being.

He held out for a few long moments, but then he had to give up and ended up stumble-rolling toward the snack bar.

Where _he _was squirting cheese on a plate of nachos and grinning to himself as he hummed some god-awful pop song under his breath. He turned and handed the plate to the two girls who had been standing there with a "Hope you enjoy 'em!"

And then he turned toward Arthur with a disarming smile. "What can I get ya?"

Alfred—at least, that's what his nametag read—was probably the most gorgeous guy that Arthur had ever laid eyes on. He was also the sole reason why Arthur suffered through this indignity every weekend.

Usually he just skated around a couple times and then stood quietly in the corner, watching Alfred as he worked the snack bar. But Francis had been getting annoyed recently by his 'mooning' and had been pushing and pushing Arthur to actually ask the guy out.

Now, Francis whispered in his ear, "You can always say 'you'."

"Shut up." And shit. He wanted to yank the words out of the air as soon as they left his mouth, because he _definitely_ hadn't meant to say that out loud. Alfred's eyebrows rose in surprise and Arthur immediately panicked, "No, not you! I was just…I was… I was talking to myself. I…I just… I'll just have a soda."

Francis was laughing at him. Arthur really wished, not for the first time in his life, that his constant companion had an actual throat. So he could fucking _strangle_ him.

Alfred's eyebrows rose even higher for a moment, but then he smiled again—and dimples appeared when he smiled, which was a detail Arthur really wished he hadn't noticed. "Dude, you don't have to be so nervous. What kinda soda do you want?"

Arthur's mind was drawing a blank. Francis's voice came again, "Just say a root beer. I hope that I don't actually have to guide you through _everything__._"

He managed to keep from responding to that one and just said, "Root beer." Probably a little too firmly.

Alfred just grinned again, though, and then turned to dispense the root beer. Giving Arthur a nice view of his backside.

"What I would do for a body," Francis sighed. And Arthur couldn't really argue with him.

"So," Alfred said when he turned back, "You come here a lot, right?" He set the root beer on the counter and Arthur was pretty sure he hadn't meant to order that large of a size. "I see you pretty much every week. You really like roller skating?"

"Um…" He wasn't sure how to answer that. "I guess?"

"'Cause I kind of noticed that you're pretty terrible." His grin widened as Arthur flushed. "You know, if you ever wanted help, I'm pretty good at skating. I could always give you some pointers if you wanted to come after my shift is over."

And Arthur felt his heart stop dead.

Until a finger poked the back of his skull. _Hard_. "Say yes or I'll dump that soda all over you."

"Ye—that would be fine." He tried to sound calm, but his voice squeaked a bit on the last word.

Alfred didn't comment, thankfully. "Great! I'm done at six, so I'll see ya then! Oh," and he pushed the soda across the counter to him with a wink that made Arthur's heart flutter like a spastic butterfly, "This one's on the house."


	22. 22nd August

August 22nd, 2014 - The King of Winds

**AUTHOR:** vow-anon**  
**

**AUGUST 22nd, 2014 - The King of Winds**

It had taken him years of toil and effort to find - this tiny, secret, mist-shrouded isle deep in the seas where no man came. He'd sailed all over the world hunting down scraps of the fabled Staveyand Map, months holed up with some of the finest scholars in the world (one of whom happened to be his brother, Bran) to decipher the glyphs and riddling, ancient verses on the map. He'd fought off other corsairs and treasure-seekers hunting for the Staveyand Treasure, earning himself a reputation as the finest swordsman on the seven seas. And he'd sailed to the tiny, nameless island, braving storms and whirlpools and dead calms, starvation and mutiny. And now his beautiful ship, his pride and joy, his beloved Lion's Claw, lay wrecked and ruined upon the rocky shores of the island - giving its life in the last leg of Captain Arthur Kirkland's treasure hunt. His crew, what remained of the loyal band, were doing their best to salvage what they could from their ship's wreckage, and Arthur had come up to the Cave alone, as the map had directed.

But it would be worth it, he told himself, breathing in deeply in front of the great bronze gate fronting the Cave where, so the map said, the Staveyand Treasure was hidden.

He muttered the words of the old legend to himself, as he had so many times before, the verses burned into his mind and dreams.

"_Alone must ye tread the Narrow Way_

_That winds up from the Hidden Bay_

_Of the misty, rock-fanged, secret Isle_

_Two points north of the Sea-wolf's Smile_

_Then, pass the secret the bronze gate keeps_

_To find the treasure that ye seek_

_The Silver-Starred, the Glory Old_

_A burning fire that's winter-cold_

_Shed the blood to earn the mark_

_Conquered seas, conquered dark_

_He who finds what's hidden there_

_Is the King of Winds, free and fair!"_

The legend had spread among the fleets for centuries - the legend of the treasure that would make its holder the King of Winds, the conqueror of the seas and the dark. It had become common knowledge that whosoever held that treasure would be the mightiest captain sailing the seas.

And now he, Arthur Kirkland, privateer, loyal subject of Her Royal Majesty, would finally lay his hands upon the Silver-Starred…

He gulped heavily, feeling suddenly very young and overwhelmed and awestruck - he, who the pirates called the Lion of the Oceans, he whose distinctive white-and-red sails struck fear into the hearts of hardened corsairs. He closed his eyes, feeling tears prickling, and with a deep breath entered the cave.

The flickering light of his torch revealed an enormous space - a flat rock floor extending to beyond the range of his light, a ceiling that arched up and away like the soaring heights of a cathedral. It was so grand Arthur gasped. And then, slowly, he began realizing something horrible - there was nothing in the cave. He took a few steps inside, peering around him. He spied a treasure chest and cried out in joy, running towards it - only to stop dead, his heart sinking, when he realized the chest was open, its red velvet interior gapingly empty.

Coming closer, he realized there was something else - someone else. He knelt beside the prone figure just in front of the chest, turning the body to see a young face and a chest rising and falling. For a moment he felt overwhelming rage, that this interloper was all he found - then, his natural honor reasserted itself, and he sighed.

He had always been fair and just, a captain whose crew followed him out of loyalty and not fear. He fancied himself a privateer, operating within the law with letters of marque and not a ruthless, outlaw pirate. He didn't raid helpless villagers or slay unwary, defenseless civilians. He was ruthless enough with the enemies of his country and efficiently stern with his crew and allies, but he was not needlessly cruel. So he let go of the urge to blame the unconscious boy. Clearly Arthur had been beaten to the treasure by some other crew - and just as clearly this boy, barely out of childhood, had been left behind. Perhaps he'd been a prisoner.

He bent over the boy, checking him for injuries. As he scanned the boy's chest and limbs, he didn't notice a drop of blood from one of his recent wounds fall onto the boy's face, nor how the boy licked it up unconsciously. But he did notice as the boy began to stir.

"Lie still," Arthur told him worriedly. "You may be badly hurt. Do not worry - I am a friend."

The boy blinked at him, and in the torchlight his eyes were the deep, unending blue of a summer sky. He smiled at Arthur, and Arthur's breath caught in his throat at the beauty of it.

"Do you know," the boy said in an odd accent, "That you are the first one here who was nice to me? The others all kicked and hit me for not having any treasure."

"The first one…?" Arthur repeated, puzzled - but his thoughts were interrupted by a familiar laugh. He bolted to his feet, his free hand going to his cutlass, as he beheld his arch-enemy Francis Bonnefoy of the _Triomphant_, surrounded by his grinning crew.

"Well done, _rosbif__,_ well done! _Merci beaucoup _for solving the riddles and leading us to the rock-fanged Isle," Francis said mockingly. "Only one, so the legend said, could pass the gates - but apparently a crew can follow in his wake. Now, I will be taking the treasure, so you will hand it over at once, _si'l vous plait__._"

Arthur snapped back with a short, concise summary of Francis's mother's sexual career, and Francis's smile grew more dangerous.

"I had hoped you might say that. _Foncez, mes garcons_!" he cried, and Arthur grit his teeth as he prepared to fight for his life.

And suddenly, there was a whoosh and a scent like new-burned fir and ice-fields, all at once, and Arthur saw the charging French crew stop dead in their tracks. Slowly, he turned his head to look behind him…

…and saw an enormous dragon, wings flared and mouth open, exposing fangs as huge as daggers and white streamers of flame that dripped and drifted like smoke around the open jaws. And in the dragon's eyes, a very familiar shade of blue…

The French crew ran screaming for the cave entrance, Francis in the forefront. Arthur might have joined them, but his limbs felt frozen and watery…

"I will bind myself to you," said the dragon to Arthur. "Because you were kind to me, and because you are brave. And because you have already given to me of your blood. Your enemies shall be mine, and your allegiances shall be mine, and we shall be a force to reckon with, you and I."

"I - I…" Arthur stammered.

"Is that not why you sailors and pirates come to this place, seeking me - me, the King of Winds? But you are the first who has been worthy. Come on," the dragon said, and suddenly the thundering voice sounded young and playful. "It'll be fun!"

Arthur swallowed hard. "But - my lord dragon…"

"You can call me Alfred," the dragon said, brightly.

"Ah. Well. Um. I'm - I'm Arthur. Arthur Kirkland," Arthur stammered in reply, groping for manners when thought and wit failed.

"Nice to meet you, Artie," the dragon chirped. "I have a feeling we'll have lots of great adventures together!"


	23. 23rd August

**AUTHOR: pandamoonlight**

**AUGUST 23rd, 2014 - King Demon**

Arthur's black boots's sound could be heard echoing through the corridor. The devil was following the Japanese Witch, that was very pale a quiet for one, each pace getting him closer to the Demon King. He couldn't help but smile thinking about what other devils (and some fallen angels) had said.

"_My grandpa told me that it's a long journey through the Blue Corridor! All of your afraids, even the ones that you didn't know you had, will take over you and the closest you get to the gate, the more insane you get._" one of the Italians said "_Oh, I already pass for that! The Witch is cute, but you'll pee your pants when the King's eyes pose on you!_" the fallen angel that Arthur _loved so_ much confessed "_Da! That corridor will turn your nerves on! Try to don't kill the King after you reach the gate._" the demon soldier's advice was followed by one of his creepy laughs.

And now, was Arthur's time to laugh inside - he didn't feel like that at all.

Actually, each pace made the sweet devil's tail stir with excitement. His short, messy, reddish hair was wet, but not with fear sweat. The only reason it was wet was because of the hot temperature and the shower that he took in the morning. He was holding back a grin, and instead of playing with his tail (like Antonio's mum had made), he was fixing his black coat and tie and opening his red shirt a little, since he was almost burning.

He was going to be the King's helper, after all. And he almost laugh at the horror in Peter's eyes when he had told him that, three days ago. Because it wasn't just some visit to the King, like everyone he had heard about did. He was going to stay there, on the King's castle, not only for a couple of hours, but until he got killed by something or someone.

And the only think that he didn't understand, wasn't why it had to be him doing this. Nor why wasn't he feeling scared. Was why the long, bloody corridor was called "Blue Corridor" when it was actually black and red.

"It's here." the Witch smiled, stopping when he reached the dark blue gates "Are you ready?" Arthur nodded, fixing his hair one last time before the gates open.

And then he saw him. The most gorgeous alive being he had already seen.

Black hair with a cowlick that defy gravity and two short horns. Strong body that showed that he wasn't a king that only sat on his throne and waited for the others to work. Bat wings so much bigger that Arthur's. And deep, sky blue eyes that seemed to check him up. Francis was wrong. That eyes didn't scared him at all. They made him feel hot and peaceful at the same time.

How could anyone be scared of _him_?

"So..." the King started, making Arthur wake up from his thoughts. The King had a pretty voice too "You are Arthur, right?"

Arthur nodded and remembered how the Whitch had told him to act "Yes, my King."

The King made a signal for the Whitch to leave, and he did it with a reverence. This made Arthur, for the first time, to gulp. Being alone with the Demon King was an indescribable feeling.

"You don't seem so scared like the others normally are." he said, but not sounding annoyed. Actually, he sound a little bit happy.

"Why should I be scared, my King?" he answered, his tail waving a little "Shouldn't it be an honour to be in your presence?"

The King made a mental note that this devil already was good enough to replace Yao, that had died fighting against some angel. How _pathetic_. The Helper, the Jack, die in angel's hands. And he was always telling him to be careful! In the end, he was the one that didn't have much care.

The demon smiled at him, what made the devil to lightly blush, and made a signal for him to come closer.

"No need for formalities. You, call me Alfred."


	24. 24th August

**AUTHOR: doitsu-the-shining-doitsu**

**August 24th, 2014**

Alfred was tired. It had been a long fucking day, and now the only thing on Alfred's mind was coffee. So of course, he decided to go down to his favorite cafe which, awesomely, has free wifi.

Walking in, he groaned seeing there was a long line waiting to order. He stood there in line with a scowl until it was finally his turn.

"Hey, Alfred. The usual?"

"Hey, Francis. And no. Actually, I want a large caramel cappuccino. Two shots."

"That'll be six seventy-three. Oh, and Feliciano will be handing out the orders from now on. Be nice, he's new." Francis winked at Alfred and took the cash he handed him. He motioned towards the other cheerful looking man. Alfred soon found himself walking over to there like a zombie.

It was only a minute of standing looking around aimlessly until Feliciano smiled over at Alfred handing him his large drink.

"Here you go!"

Alfred smiled and grabbed the drink, putting his other hand into his pocket walking away from the counter. He then, found a comfy chair to lounge in.

"I'll just relax until the coffee is gone, get some more, and then leave for home." Alfred thought and smelled his drink.

But, oddly, it did not smell like coffee.

Shrugging it off Alfred took a sip just assuming that's what cappuccinos smelled like, since he usually got frappes instead.

When the hot liquid went down his throat Alfred blinked. He took another sip.

"Oh hell no, this isn't-" Alfred sat up and took the cover off. It held a tea bag and was most definitely not coffee. "No, it's tea."

Groaning, Alfred watch Feliciano hand out drinks. He must've gotten his and someone else's mixed up. Maybe he wrote the name on the container.

Looking around it, Alfred finally found a name. Arthur.

"Well Arthur, I am going to find you if it's the last thing I do."

Alfred stood up and looked around. The place was crowded, and he wanted to just cry and give up.

It took 10 minutes of walking around after feeling defeated but he heard coughing. Curious, he turned to find a blonde man on a computer wiping his mouth on his sleeve after drinking from his cup.

"The bloody hell? This is most definitely not tea."

Smiling, Alfred walking over to the man, hoping he was the Arthur he was looking for.

"Arthur?"

"What?" Arthur turned around. "Uh. Have we met?"

Green eyes met blue and Alfred almost faltered back. Oh god was this guy cute.

"..dammit he's cute.."

"what." Arthur blushed.

"what?" Alfred laughed nervously, realizing he said that out loud. "I meant, I think we have each other's orders."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and I hope you don't mind.. but I drank from yours so-"

"No, it's fine." Arthur smiled and offered the coffee to Alfred. Alfred took it and handed Arthur his tea.

"Thank you." Alfred smelled the drink and this time, it smelled like coffee.

Arthur had drank some of his tea and continued on what he was doing, assuming Alfred would've walked off, but being nosy, Alfred looked at Arthur's computer screen.

"Is that-" Alfred smiled. "Is that Sailor Moon!"

"You're still here! A-and. Yeah, even if it isn't any of your business, yes that's Sailor Moon."

"..."

".."

"Can I watch with you?" Alfred asked.

"... fine." Arthur sighed and paused the episode as the blonde man moved a chair next to his and they continued to watch the anime.

It was at least 15 episodes later and a few more teas and coffees until Francis kicked the two out because he had to close. And within that span of 15 Sailor Moon episodes, Arthur and Alfred had learned enough about each other to be a bit more than acquaintances.

Laughing Alfred walked Arthur to his car, and watched as Arthur put his stuff in the back seat. Moving back outside the car Arthur walked to Alfred.

"So, Alfred.. I was thinking. Do you want to go and get coffee and watch more Sailor Moon together again sometime?" Arthur looked to the side as he spoke and Alfred couldn't hold his excitement. He hugged Arthur close.

"I thought you'd never ask!"


	25. 25th August

August 25th, 2014

**AUTHOR:** anonymous

**August 25th, 2014 **

"Have you seen him yet?"

"No!"

"Oh, you're missing out! He's so hot."

"Ahh, no fair! I wanna see!"

"I heard he has lunch next period, I'll show you him then."

"Yes!"

Alfred chuckled to himself, shamelessly eavesdropping on his classmate's conversation as they discussed the new kid, an apparently super dreamy blond British boy by the name of Arthur.

He'd heard just about everything; Arthur was a prince, Arthur was _best friends_ with a prince, Arthur moved to the states from London to escape a life of crime, Arthur was a professional football player (that is like, totally what they call it over there, BTW), just to name a few.

But those were just the rumors. _Alfred_ knew the _truth._

Alfred knew that Arthur was the the second youngest sibling out of the five boys in his family. Alfred knew Arthur's mother was a nurse and his father was a revolutionary war historian. Alfred knew Arthur loved unicorns, was allergic to cats, yet owned a Scottish fold because his younger brother was far too attached to the old thing to get rid of it for Arthur's sake. Alfred knew Arthur's favorite color was green.

He was sitting alone at a table by the window when Alfred entered the lunch line, and thankfully, was still alone when he emerged with his food.

Alfred grinned and crossed the cafeteria.

Arthur, delicately sipping at his pink carton of milk and flipping absently through his newly acquired yearly planner, smiled when he heard Alfred's heavy footsteps approaching.

"I was wondering when you would finally say hello."

Alfred beamed. "Just building up suspense."

Arthur snorted. "Suspense? That's a clever way to say working up the nerve."

"Hey now, you never said hi to me either," Alfred reminded him, taking the seat across from him at the table.

Finally, _finally,_ Arthur looked up from the table to challenge him with his green, green eyes that looked even greener when they weren't behind the computer screen. The smallest hint of a smile crept onto his lips.

"Are you insinuating that I was nervous, Mr. Jones?"

Alfred shrugged. "I'm tall in real life. I imagine it cal be intimidating."

Arthur snorted a laugh into his drink, causing Alfred to provide himself with a silent, internal cheer of victory. "You are an even bigger tosser offline," he said with a laugh, shaking his head and blushing ever so lightly.

Alfred's cheeks hurt as he took a big bite out of his hamburger. He was in for a fantastic year.


	26. 26th August

**AUTHOR: Aku-Chan-The-Devil-San**

**August 26th, 2014 - Simple**

"I had grown up a Mississippi farm boy living in a small town, in a big house and an even bigger church. Life had been simple everyday nothing changed and no one wanted it to, I had taken care of the farm everyday and watched the stars each night. There was nothing complicated about my existence and I had thought I liked it that way.

Well that was before I met the love of my natural born life, a British man by the name of Arthur Kirkland. He said he had escaped to the town to complete his bestselling trilogy but found himself on my doorstep and had been there ever since..."

Alfred groaned and looked disdainfully at the man in the mirror the old thing was cracked and ugly matching how he looked perfectly, his eyes sunk into his skull darkening as the raging ocean. His skin was paled and dry looking tanned by the moon instead of the sun and his golden locks fell like dead grass.

Alfred gazed to his reflection the corners of his frown softening he ran his hands down the tight black suit he reached the knot of his tie and straighted it with a whimper"Alfred, you're twenty five years old you can tie your own bloody tie can't you?" No. Alfred still couldn't and the one person who had primly inspected his Sunday best the last six years...

Wasn't there anymore.

Alfred sunk to his knees his face breaking and tears falling making little stars on the impossibly black fabric, Arthur had hated black always had even as he withered away in the clean unearthly hospital he always demanded that they keep the lights on, one of the few things he remembered as his mind deteriorated.

And one of the many thing Alfred would remember as he carried on without him he stood and wiped the tears away from his face "Alfred, heroes don't cry" Arthur had told him after their dog Hope had passed even though he had cried more than Alfred.

He looked out the bedroom window to the sloppy gray sky hoping that he would be able to hold his tears at the memorial, He had written the eulogy himself but he had no way to describe the beauty of Arthur the way he got freckles in the sun, drank tea when he was stressed, talked to the garden plants and gave them names, and waking up to his beautiful face every morning.

Alfred felt his face pricked with warmth the tears cascaded he sobbed and he couldn't stop how was Alfred a hero anyway he let someone he loved die he could never be a hero if he couldn't be Arthurs.

He stared at the tear stained eulogy filled with word of love and hope and sighed.

When was life ever simple?

_because death certainly wasn't_


	27. 27th August

**AUTHOR: carriecmoney**

**August 27th, 2014 - Conscription**

"Ah! _Christ _on the _cross!_ Do you _have_ to do that?"

Arthur tutted as he dabbed his whiskey-soaked cloth more over the whiplashes on Alfred's back, unheeding of his hisses and protests. "It's for your own good, lad, or you won't get healed in time for the next time you fail to escape."

Alfred glared at him over his shoulder, prone on the only cot in the sailor's hold, most of the beds as hammocks. "Who says I'll fail?" Arthur just rolled his eyes and pressed his shoulder down with one hand as he uncorked the whiskey bottle with his teeth.

"Hol' shtill." Alfred started to argue, but Arthur just poured the whiskey straight on the deepest cut, right along his spine, so deep he saw the flash of bone. His stomach turned at the sight, and turned even more as Alfred's hissing gave way to a wail he couldn't repress. "Shh, shh." He quickly recorked the bottle and wiped away the blood and alcohol foaming from the cut. "You'll be all right, lad, don't move, I'm right here."

Eventually Alfred's breathing evened out again, but his eyes stayed screwed shut and his jaw clenched, blood trickling along the valley of his cheekbone. Arthur's heart ached this time, so he busied himself with pressing linen strips along the worst of the weals, whispering comforts all the while. When Alfred could sit up again, he'd wrap them tight.

"I _hate_ this." Alfred's low whisper twisted under Arthur's skin and stayed there. "I hate this ship, and the captain, and the king, and the entire _fucking_ country of Britain-"

"Watch your words there, love, or you might offend me," Arthur said, keeping his tone and touch light. Alfred flashed a pained smile over his shoulder.

"You know you're different." He sighed and relaxed a little on the cot, more like a table - but he hadn't really relaxed since getting press-ganged on this Royal Navy ship seven months ago. "I need to go _home_."

"A sailor's home is the sea, no matter the master."

"So you say. But you hated your home, just as much as I hate this tub." He knocked his fist, clenched by his head, against the wall at his ear. Then he grinned, and Arthur had to grin back, fingers trailing over the sweat and blood-slick skin at Alfred's neck.

"Hmm. Well, Master 'I'm an American citizen', let's see if you can sit up. I need to wrap you up."


	28. 28th August

**AUTHOR: flybynight**

**August 28th, 2014 - Bacchic Revelry**

Arthur was surprised that anyone should come to him looking for counsel- he wasn't exactly known to be the friendliest god around. At least, not when sober. He especially hadn't expected Alfred, the god of the sun, to be the one seeking him out.

But even more surprising than even that was why: Alfred, beautifully formed and the paragon of youth and masculinity, was looking for _love_ advice.

Somehow he had assumed that Arthur was some sort of expert, and had come running to his doorstep, looking for all the world rather pathetic. It was funny since Arthur, as the god of wine, had very little to offer in that department. That was more of Francis's expertise, or even Alfred's younger brother Matthew, who accompanied Francis on a daily basis. They were the patrons of love and passion- not booze and calamity like Arthur was.

That hadn't seemed to matter to Alfred at all.

So, he'd let the other god into his home to talk. About love. His own devoted followers- rather, rabid gaggle of females-were out frolicking in some forest nearby, so Arthur knew he had the free time. There were worse ways to spend an evening.

He also didn't hate Alfred. They weren't friends or anything, having met at schmoozing parties on Olympus a few times perhaps, but the other had seemed harmless enough. He wasn't a complete twat like some of his other "brothers and sisters".

"All right, have a seat," Arthur said, gesturing at his pile of colorful silk throw pillows and cushions. "Tell me again why you can't find someone to warm your bed?"

Alfred sat down hesitantly, folding his legs and looking down at the floor. "I... I'm not sure exactly. I guess that's why I came to you for help!"

Arthur 'hmm'ed thoughtfully, reaching for a large casket of wine before plopping down next to him. Drinking always helped him think, and it would probably help loosen the other god up- he looked far too tense. He poured them both a drink. Alfred downed his in one gulp.

"I'm the god of wine, mate. What makes you think I can do anything? Shouldn't you be talking to Francis?" Arthur asked, voicing his thoughts from earlier.

"I'm too ashamed to talk to him. And anyway, he's... weird about this sort of thing. I feel like if I told him I liked someone, he'd just go and enchant them and-"

"And that's not what you want," Arthur finished for him, raising an eyebrow. When Alfred actually blushed a little, he smirked. "So... why me then?"

"Because you- you have this huge following of girls, and I'm just... wondering how you do it," Alfred answered, looking over at him with some awe. Arthur would have laughed, but that would have been quite rude.

He took another drink and refilled Alfred's glass instead. "Do you know how many priestesses of the sun god there are around here? You have _plenty_ of admirers."

"Yeah. Admirers. But they... don't want to be with me that way."

Arthur actually paused to look at him, to make sure he was serious.

"So I'm guessing you've already tried?"

Alfred hesitated, scratching the back of his head. "Well. ... yeah."

"Who?" Arthur asked, honestly curious.

"Well... there were a couple of nymphs... I forget their names. One of them drowned herself in a river to avoid being with me. And the other turned herself into a tree."

Arthur winced.

"And then there was this lovely demigoddess- who turned out to be a relative of mine on my mother's side, so that wasn't going to work..."

Alfred looked thoughtful for a moment. "There was also one mortal. We went out a few times, but when I tried to propose, she rejected me. ...I think she was sleeping with Ivan, that bastard. I mean come on, he's the god of freaking cold air- how do you choose THAT over the sun?!"

"I don't understand."

"You're telling me!"

This was quite the problem. Arthur swished the wine in his glass a bit more and noticed Alfred's cup was empty again. He leaned over to pour him some more. They sat in silence for a few moments.

"Do... do you think I'm ugly? Maybe that's it?" Alfred asked, timidly. Certainly not appropriate for someone of his ranking in Olympus. And from what he knew of the young god's ego, definitely out of character.

"Are you a fool?" Arthur said with a laugh. "You're the bloody god of the sun!"

"I don't know... I mean, you're..."

"Attractive, but I could never be as chiseled and cut as you are, my friend," Arthur smiled, looking up thoughtfully. "You're powerful, handsome. I don't know why the girls run from you, but humans can be remarkably stupid creatures."

Alfred's face seemed to redden a bit at the compliments. "...You have a whole group of them following you on a daily basis!"

"Yes. Frightfully devoted, they are. I should say that I do appreciate the sentiment."

"Aren't you happy?"

Arthur looked at him evenly. "It's not what you're looking for, as you've said."

Alfred sighed heavily, as if defeated. "I guess... none of us really knows what it's like. Love, I mean."

"We're gods, Alfred. We have whatever we want, screw whomever we please- well, most of us. What you're asking for is something that no one knows about, because it probably doesn't exist."

"It has to! Otherwise there wouldn't BE a god of love!"

"Ah, but how utterly dysfunctional are his relationships? Ever wondered why?"

Alfred didn't answer- he didn't have to. He hung his head, and Arthur poured him another drink. This continued on for hours, the two of them comfortably soaking up each other's company (along with a good amount of alcohol). It was rather enjoyable in its own way. Once again Arthur felt that perhaps Alfred was the least irritating of his brethren he'd ever met. At least, Arthur wasn't quite ready to kick him out yet. They traded stories, laughed together, anything to get Alfred's mind off of his predicament. Of course it wasn't long before Alfred was quite smashed. Arthur, who had the ability to choose to be drunk, decided to simply let himself go, it was more relaxing that way.

And then Alfred started _crying_.

"You know I... I haven't even been kissed..." he sobbed, his empty glass hanging loosely from his fingertips. Arthur cooed sympathetically and took his glass from him, handing him his own to drink from while he refilled the other. Alfred gulped it down eagerly.

"It's... it's like... I have some sort of... disease or something. I'm not ugly, am I Arthur?!"

Arthur blinked at him slowly, examining the ripples of muscle and rock hard abs, gloriously sun-kissed skin, hopelessly blue eyes of his companion, and shook his head.

"You're not."

"So... so... what's wrong with me then? I'm just... I feel so... I just want..." he choked, dropping the glass. "Arthur, I want to be loved. I want to love someone else. Is that... is that really so impossible?"

For some reason, at that moment, Arthur didn't think it was impossible at all. Just like he no longer thought it impossible that he would suddenly and violently be attracted to the other god. Alcohol could do funny things to the mind.

To stop himself from thinking, he simply put down his own glass, crawling over the pillows and kneeling right in front of the distraught Alfred. Without saying a word, he reached out to cup his cheeks. Alfred looked up at him, face flushed a bright pink, eyes red and glittering with tears. He looked so miserable. So lonely.

So _delectable_. Arthur had never been more turned on in his life.

"I... Arthur?" he asked, understandably, in confusion.

"Just shut up," Arthur whispered before kissing him sloppily.

They both fell back against the pillows, Arthur shifting his thigh between Alfred's legs as he pressed up against the other. Alfred hesitated for only a moment before he was kissing him back, much to the other god's delight. He was surprised that Alfred, being as scorned as he was by women (and not to mention, heavily drunk) was an amazing kisser. Arthur was not about to be outdone however, having tamed the tongues of many a wild maid. Not that Alfred was a maiden.

As he slid his hand down the sun god's muscular thigh, slipping it underneath his toga... yes, he was very much _not_ a maiden. Arthur had never lay with a man before, but he figured if he was going to have a first time, it might as well be with the finest "male" he knew. He broke their kiss, admiring Alfred's kiss-bruised lips and the healthy flush on his cheeks that was not from alcohol alone any more.

"Looks like tonight is your lucky night, Alfred," Arthur purred, undoing his own toga and sliding the white and gold cloth off of his shoulders. It pooled at his waist, and Alfred looked up at him like a dying man in the desert staring at an oasis.

"Oh... can I..."

"Yes, you can," the god of wine whispered, leaning down again as he rubbed his lower half against the other's and brushed his lips across the shell of his ear. "Touch me everywhere."

Alfred did just that.

Perhaps they too would end up being dysfunctional. Arthur didn't know, and didn't care. From now on, he decided- he would try getting drunk on Alfred.


	29. 29th August

**ARTIST: stephyhime (Art is available on the _365daysofusuk_ tumblr)**

**AUTHOR: Anonymous**

**August 29th, 2014 - The Great Canadian Flag Debate**

When Canada finally decided in 1965 that it was time to have his own flag, England reacted the same way he always did when he felt like his former colonies were deserting him in favor of independence. He criticized the idea as long as possible, and then fell into depression once he realized that change was inevitable. Most people went through five stages of grief, England had only two: denial and drinking.

But not this time, because America had a promise to keep.

Canada, after working very hard to catch his twin's attention at the last world meeting, had softly asked America to make sure that England attended the official ceremony instead of staying in bed with a terrible hangover. As a hero (he hardly ever forgot about Canadia since WWII!), America couldn't say no to his little brother.

America spotted his quarry at the end of the bar and congratulated himself on his awesome spy skills. Just call him Jones, Alfred Jones. Before England could spot him, he had a brief discussion with the bartender, a discussion that ended with him handing over some of the colorful bills that his brother mistakenly called 'dollars.' Satisfied with his cleverness, America took the stool next to England, ordered a beer, and smiled when England turned to scowl at him.

America smiled cheerfully. "Oh man, I can't wait to hear you drunkenly ranting about someone else for a change." He accepted a glass of beer from the bartender and raised it in England's direction. "Cheers!"

"_Do_ shut up," England crisply replied.

"Is that a gin and tonic?" America asked. "I would've expected you to drink a martini," he switched to a bad English accent, "you know, 'shaken not stirred'."

England groaned as America's booming laughter filled the bar. The other patrons glared at the loud American, who continued to chat about 'awesome spy movies' and remained completely oblivious, as usual.

Five drinks later, England had finished a detailed rant of why the Royal Union Standard was the best flag in the world. He muttered darkly about rumors that New Zealand and Australia were also thinking of removing the Union Jack from their flags. America sat back and enjoyed the performance. It was remarkable to see England complain so vociferously about someone other than the great ol' US of A. He could appreciate England's spitfire attitude without feeling the need to defend himself.

The bartender glanced over nervously at the very tipsy blond. "I don't understand, sir," he said quietly to America, "I've been following your instructions precisely."

America waved him off. "Don't worry, dude, he always gets like this."

England didn't pay any attention to their conversation; he was still too lost in complaints. "Shtupid Canada. What was wrong with the Union Jack? Ish a good flag! I thought he would be grateful when I saved him from frog-face, but uh-uh. His people wanted to add the fleur-de… fleur-de… that frog-flower to his flag…" he muttered.

"Wanna make a French snowman and then throw snowballs at it?" America suggested.

England turned over to look at the other country so suddenly that he nearly fell off his stool. "America," he said completely seriously, "that is a _brilliant_ plan."

They grabbed their coats and America winked at the bartender as they left. They raced up the street to the top of Parliament Hill, giving them an entire field of fresh snow. England began industriously rolling balls of snow to form a snowman's body. He wobbled and stumbled and lifted and slowly built his masterpiece (twig beard and all!), while America watched.

They tossed snowballs at the snowman until it toppled over, then began to throw snowballs at each other until England toppled over.

Still laughing, America walked over to help England stand up. The smaller nation accepted the help, and then with a grin, he slipped a handful of snow down the back of America's coat. America yelped and jumped. "Hey! That's cheating!" he protested. England laughed and took the opportunity to sprint out of reach.

America gave chase. With the advantage of longer legs and more experience running in the snow, he quickly caught up and tackled England to the ground. They tumbled end over end to the bottom of the little hill, where they rested in the snow to catch their winds. Each warm breath formed a small cloud of mist above their faces.

"I'm real proud of Canada," America offered into the silence. "His own flag, it's like he's all grown up now."

"You _would_ feel that way," England replied. He sighed. It never got any easier as his colonies drifted away. He still had his Commonwealth, but it just wasn't the same.

"Y'know, I bet it'd mean a lot to Canada if you told him that you're proud too."

"Mmm," England replied noncommittally.

America took this for agreement. He generally assumed that everyone agreed with him all the time and then acted surprised when they denied it. "Good. I'm getting snow in places that shouldn't get snow. Let's head back. Maybe they have hot chocolate!"

When England joined him for a cup of hot chocolate and then went to bed, America considered his mission a success.

The next morning, England awoke with a surprisingly clear head and no memories blanks from the previous evening. He attributed this to his impressive tolerance for liquor. Without a hangover to keep him in bed, he stood next to a proud Canada at the official ceremony, watching as the guardsmen lowered the Canadian Red Ensign and raised the Maple Leaf Flag. The red and white flag flapped in the breeze: bold and clean and distinctively Canadian.

"It looks lovely," England admitted. "Very you. And... I want you to know that I'm proud of all the progress you've made as a country."

Canada wiped away a tear and hugged England tightly.

"How did you do it?" he asked America a little later, nodding his head at the shockingly sober England.

America chuckled. "I just paid the bartender to give him non-alcoholic drinks."

He watched the ceremony with a feeling of bittersweet pride. Perhaps someday England would tell America that he was proud of him too.


	30. 30th August

**Author: supershinywords**

**August 30th, 2014 - All Roads  
**

The sun stroked deceptively gentle fingers over America's face as the ship bearing him forward eased through mild waters. They'd arrived a few hours earlier than they'd expected when the captain had taken his suggestion and made a minor change of course, allowing them to catch a strong headwind that had propelled them forward like one of the small wave cutters of old.

A ghost of times past painted itself across the insides of his eyelids and for a moment, he could see the England of his childhood stretching out to accept him. In the anticipatory quiet as the crew waited, not wanting to cast anchor but not willing to hurry into harbor without official sanction, America could believe he'd been here before, remembered the sound of water persuading wood on a ship long since decommissioned and destroyed.

There had been more noise, then. Far more. _Cacophony_. Merchant vessels and passenger ships and navy ships all at once, seeming to be a confused jumble of signals and an overwhelming newness, so strange to the uninitiated child he'd been. England had been pleased with him, then: happy to share his home, happy to accept America's awe and his interest.

America was not so lost in thought that he didn't feel the vessel pick up speed. He opened his eyes and the Pool of London was replaced with the modern port of Grimsby and Immingham. He'd been here before as well, though the experience was not memorable in and of itself.

One of the sailors assigned to him approached. "We've received permission to dock, Mr. Jones. We'll be level with the dock shortly. Do you need time to pack anything away?"

America smiled. Lieutenant Kensey had been assigned to his care and feeding and had approached the task with such a sincerity of effort that America had found it easy to like him. "Don't worry about it, Sam. All packed."

Kensey lingered a moment, his expression twitching minutely as his natural impulse to trust his superiors warred with his newfound familiarity with this particular one, and America had to laugh. "You're a riot, Sam. It may be hard to believe, but I packed everything up."

Sam's expression settled. "Cook will be pleased."

America sucked on his cheek, half sheepish and half amused. "You're probably right, there. All in a good cause, eh?"

"Of course." Sam ducked his head and smiled at the deck. "Your inventions are incredible, sir."

"Sir?" America propped his hands on his hips and laughed. "I thought I'd cured you of that! My name is Alfred, man!"

"Sorry, sir. We're not in international waters anymore and I don't want any demerits."

America snorted air through his nose and rolled his eyes fondly. "Yeah, yeah..." He might have continued to argue, but they were butting up against the nets designed to keep the ship in place while the locke filled and impatience carried him to the side.

At least the new system was efficient: he'd helped design it and had overseen its implementation in a flurry of construction that completely restructured the port to work with the rising water levels. The Floating Fortress was becoming just that in truth, as America's innovations (well, his and the combined team of British and American engineers) were implemented with speed throughout England, Scotland and Wales.

Shade cut through the heat of the sun and America turned his face up to the reflected spray of the surf as the locke filled, but the sun stretched jealous fingers into the shadows of the locke as the ship rose and shortly, they were once more unable to escape the heat without turning indoors.

At least the temperatures here were bearable. Some parts of Florida, Texas, Louisiana, and Alabama still accessible had become a new corner of hell. Mexico and Cuba were worse. The United Kingdom had settled into a hot but livable 26 degrees Celsius during high summer, which England still complained about, but it was better than parts of the world were doing.

Poor England, though. It was a pretty huge change, and it showed in his attire. During the hot parts of the day, he'd loosen his tie as his cheeks began to flush from heat he still wasn't accustomed to, not even after three conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan and the threat of global warming fully realized a decade ago. He might even roll up his shirt-sleeves during meetings. When they weren't on official business, he was in t-shirts and light jeans without fail.

A familiar crisp tone cut through cut through his absent daydreaming as the ship began settling in its new temporary harbor. "Wool-gathering, Mr. Jones?"

England had come to meet him, was waiting now in the shade of a nearby building.

"_Arthur_? Arthur!" America blinked and dropped his hand where he'd been shielding his eyes as he observed the angle of the sun, then bounded over the side of the boat without bothering to wait for the gangplank.

Even though he was excited, America could still see the paranoid soldiers twitch at his abrupt motions and in respect to the job they did, he slowed down and let his hands hang open and nonthreatening as he took the last few strides to England. There was a moment where he hesitated, just at arms' reach, and his eyes swept over England automatically.

His unbuttoned jacket was an early concession to the temperatures that would have seemed impossible here fifteen years ago. The open jacket bared his collared shirt and lack of tie. He cut an incongruous figure with the soldiers around him clothed in the latest collaboration between America and Canada in counter-terrorism personal defense armor. His eyes landed on two small pins in the crisp folded collar of England's neat shirt and a wave of fondness swept him.

Two years since he'd seen Arthur in person, and now here he was, meeting him at the harbor two hours before they were scheduled to arrive, neatly put together, wearing the national flags of both of their nations in proof of the United Commons Treaty.

_Two nations bound by ties of friendship and blood, equal before all…_

England's face clouded at what he could see of America's emotions on his face and then his eyes widened as America took one step closer and went down on one knee. He didn't bow his head because that would have sent the wrong message and it would have meant looking away from England's gloriously flummoxed expression.

Kneeling in the dirt with England gaping like a fish down at him, green eyes gone wide in surprise, America smiled and didn't attempt to hide the depths of his fondness. "Hello, Arthur. I missed you."


	31. 31st August

**Author: empressvegah**

**August 31st, 2014 - Just Tell Me You Love Me  
**

In the karaoke booth, Alfred and Arthur were sitting at the opposite ends. Alfred was subdued for once. He wasn't actively singing, only laughing occasionally at some joke Gilbert said. It was so clear that he was nervous for something. The BTT had enough. They pulled Alfred from his seat, pushing him at the center of the booth and handed him the microphone and remote.

"Alfred, we're in a fucking karaoke booth and you're not even trying to enjoy. Just sing one song, damn it!" Gilbert hissed, though it was laced with concern.

Alfred nodded mutely and gripped the remote, browsing through the menu and selecting the one song that kept on repeating on his head ever since that day – ironically it was the song playing on his mom's radio when he got home.

A short piano introduction came from the speakers. Alfred inhaled, making sure that his voice wouldn't crack, and made eye contact with Arthur Kirkland. His heart skipped a beat when he saw green eyes looking back at him.

_"Many times, I wished you were here_

_Through the velvet shadows of my dreams_

_Many times, I wished you were near_

_Through the darkness as it came but it seems_

_That you, you never said what I needed to hear."_

Alfred ignored the teasing grins on his friends' faces, and fuck, even Kiku was hiding a smile behind his hand. His eyes were still locked with Arthur's green ones, and the flip-flopping feeling on his stomach was starting to make him feel nauseated. What Arthur and he shared all throughout those months they were together – going out as if they were boyfriends, spending the night at each other's houses, telling each other their problems and revealing too much of themselves, sharing their dreams and wants in their lives –

Even though they weren't really anything more than just friends.

But Alfred did often tell Arthur, albeit in a joking manner, that he loved him. Arthur's usual response was going red, then hitting him and walking out, only to return back in a calmer manner. Alfred could only tell Arthur what he really felt through jokes – feeling that Arthur would want nothing more than friendship.

But now, he couldn't contain his feelings anymore.

He wanted to tell Arthur so bad what he really felt towards the Brit. But he was afraid to tell Arthur in the most honest words, so he decided to say it in the cheesiest way – through a love song.

With that renewed resolve, he continued singing.

_"Just tell me you love me,_

_Whisper words I so long to hear_

_Let this time not be borrowed_

_Let it be ours to share_

_If you tell me you love me_

_It would lead a way to your heart_

_Through the mirrors of silence, you love me"_

All throughout the song, Alfred's eyes never left Arthur, pouring all his feelings into that one song, trying to convey all his love with one look. The world disappeared and all that's left was the romantic melody and Arthur – his hands shaking and face blushing – and Alfred's heart started to pump excitedly against his chest.

After the song ended, he tossed the microphone towards Gilbert, grabbed Arthur's wrist and dragged his best friend outside, ignoring the catcalls and teasing from the people inside.

Pulling Arthur to an empty corner, Alfred let go and finally looked at him. He mind was still struggling on what to say when Arthur broke the silence; his eyes still reflecting the same unbelieving yet hopeful look – though, this time, the hope was more prominent.

"Alfred… do you really mean it? What you said back then… and the song?"

Alfred inhaled through his nose and nodded. "Yes, Artie – _Arthur_. I do mean it – them. I've loved you. For a long time already. And I'm sor –"

He never managed to continue because Arthur suddenly stepped forward, cutting him in from his apology. Arthur then pressed his forehead against Alfred's shoulder – an invasion of Alfred's personal space that was so very welcomed.

The two of them fell silent, Alfred's heart beating erratically against his chest – he didn't know what Arthur's action meant. He just stood there, rooted on the spot as he waited for Arthur to either make or break his heart.

He heard Arthur take in a deep breath, then slowly clenched his fists against Alfred's shirt and whispered breathlessly, "I love you too, Alfred."

Alfred's eyes widened, before slowly closing them and burying his face against Arthur's soft blond hair. He wrapped his arms around his best friend-now-boyfriend and squeezed him tight. "I love you, Arthur. I love you."


End file.
